


Old, Unhappy, Far-Off Things

by InFamousHero



Series: Service & Sacrifice [1]
Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Depression, F/F, Fix-It, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Recovery, Self-Harm, Suicidal Ideation, Survivor Guilt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-27
Updated: 2015-05-22
Packaged: 2018-03-19 01:35:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 29,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3591420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InFamousHero/pseuds/InFamousHero
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[Universe Alteration] - Her hunt over, Maiev Shadowsong finally returns to her homelands in a haze, haunted by trauma and directionless. The world is different and she feels anchored in the past, struggling to move forward. Having lost all that mattered to her and standing as a stranger amongst her own people, can she find the means to keep going?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Return

**Author's Note:**

> This is fuelled by a lot of unresolved thoughts and feelings about Maiev’s overall arc and the bitterness I hold over Wolfheart. I thought she deserved more care and attention taken with her narrative and I hope this is enjoyed by people who share similar sentiments.
> 
> This is NOT for people who can't stand seeing Illidan in a negative light. Fanfic is supposed to be enjoyable and I do not want people upset, so there's your warning.

Home was such a strange concept to her now.

          Suramar was the first, then the temple in Hajiri. Both were beautiful cities in their time, though Hajiri was quieter and often shrouded in mist.

          The sprawling gardens would scent the air with moon lilies and crescent blooms, providing shelter with trees older than the city itself. Their boughs stretched towards the stars and many children took to climbing them, seeing it as a challenge, their first little adventure.

          She found the practice more worrying than amusing, and she stood nearby at times, knowing there would be at least one child who hurt themselves while climbing.

          Hajiri was still somewhere on the bottom of the ocean, likely infested by naga and the spirits of long dead people, and Suramar…

          She did not wish to entertain what Suramar became to her. It was better left alone.

          The barrow prison had been another such home. Again and again, ‘home’ was destroyed in a wash of violence, any connection to peace or contentment twisted into something painful. She was no stranger to the pain that came with it, but the barrow stung the most.

          Over the years spent there, her idea of family changed significantly as well. Not that she was given a choice in the matter. If Jarod could simply walk away into obscurity without so much as a letter, when they had no family left but each other, then he clearly did not care for her as much as she did him.

          At the time she blamed herself for it, perhaps she was too blunt, perhaps he thought she would not understand his reasons. But the blame eventually turned into bitterness and resignation.

          He did not even _try._

          The Watchers became her new family and she trained them to be strong, dutiful and fiercely loyal to each other. They were a relatively small group at first, other members of the Sisterhood who saw the danger Illidan posed and wished to aid in her task of keeping him where he belonged.

          It grew over time, however, as their people regrouped after the Sundering and heard of what transpired upon Hyjal. New sisters came to her, looking for purpose which she gave them freely, and she made sure they knew their duty. They weren’t to be cruel and she would not stand for it if _any_ Watcher mistreated their charges. All they were meant to do was keep the monsters in their cages.

          One did not throw common criminals into an underground prison such as hers. Petty thieves and other smaller offenders did not share space with the Betrayer. They were dealt with above ground. No, the people in the Barrow were of the worst kind.

          The Watchers dealt with it admirably for the most part, most understood what they were up against and what they could be expected to face while handling such refuse. Some left after it became too much and she did not fault them for it.

          She had to wonder what they were doing with their lives now. Something peaceful, she hoped, far from anything that would do them harm. There had been enough of that.

          Regardless of their resilience and adherence to duty, justice, the ideals of their people, even that came to a violent end. Her Watchers knew very well why each of their charges deserved to sit in their cages, contemplating their actions for however long it took them to finally rot away.

          Even with Elune’s Chosen before them, they refused to waver, and now home – family – were nothing more than husks to her, words devoid of any meaning.

          There was nothing left to attach them to.

          So with heavy, dragging feet she stepped upon Teldrassil’s shores and stared up at the great tree.

          It towered like a cousin of the Aspects, shrouded by the late morning fog. Sunlight barely penetrated to the fishing village she stood in and she breathed in the chill of the air. The smell of salt water and fish put a nauseous tremor in her gut and she pressed herself to move further inland.

          It was only until she stepped into the city that someone recognized her. A Sentinel who clearly knew her history hurried away much too abruptly upon spotting Maiev and she stayed where she was for lack of anything better to do. Really, what was she even doing here? What was she expecting to _find_?

          There was nothing of familiarity to be had. Her Watchers were gone, lost to the chase. There _were_ former Watchers, but the last had left the barrow a thousand years prior. It was no comfort to her.

          No, _her_ people were gone, as was Illidan and the barrow itself, left in ruins, and her entire purpose for being gone with it.

          Why was she still here?

          Darnassus spread out around her like a mockery of what once was, trying to catch the beauty of old and quietly failing to do so. The city was asleep for the most part, quiet in the late hours of the morning, but she could hear birds twittering to each other and the sound was as melodious to her as the crunching of glass.

          There was a storm approaching from the north, dark clouds slowly crawling across the sky to blot out the sun. They looked to start rumbling soon, turning the fog to drizzle, to rain and finally a storm.

          She did not want to be outside for it.

          When the Sentinel finally returned she was not alone.

          At any other time she may have relished the look of wariness on Tyrande’s features, but when their eyes met she could do nothing but stare blankly, her thoughts miring somewhere cold and stifling.

          Here was the reason for all of her grievances and she could not even muster the energy to snarl. She wasn’t even looking at Tyrande, not really, she couldn’t focus long enough on the other woman’s eyes.

          The words didn’t register to her at first, until Tyrande spoke her name and Maiev finally blinked, feeling a dry sting in her eyes for it.

          “It is true then? He is dead?”

          She only nodded, remaining silent and watching a flicker of unease cross Tyrande’s face.

          If the High Priestess expected Maiev to spit and froth and throw things at her, she was bound for disappointment. There was no inclination to anything of the like. There was little point to it.

          Awkwardly, Tyrande tried to get further information from her but most of the words got lost somewhere in the bland _noise_ bubbling away between her thoughts.     

          Maiev blinked again and finally took notice of the sentinel with Tyrande. She was leaning into the High Priestess’s space to murmur something and Maiev simply narrowed her eyes.

          Whatever it was, Tyrande shook her head in response and returned her attention to Maiev.

          Perplexingly, she found herself ‘welcome’ to stay in Darnassus, despite her ‘transgressions.’ Maiev assumed that was in reference to her lie that endangered Tyrande’s life years ago.

          It had seemed so vital at the time.

          Before she could slink away to find somewhere quiet to perch, Tyrande sought to further baffle her.

          _‘There is an empty house just outside the city. The occupant had no family and no else had need of it until now. You may use it if you wish.’_

 

Harpies, she was told. Their talons had ripped the herbalist to shreds, leaving a mess for the Sentinels to find.

          Perhaps it was a morbid thing to live in a recently dead woman’s house, but Maiev refrained from giving it too much thought. She had enough disturbances slithering through her mind like barbed eels.

          The home was small and neatly kept, just a single room shelter not far from a stream. There were shelves full of drying herbs, blooms, vials, bottles, various little tools and other such things immediately opposite the door. A simple workspace for their use accompanied it.

          To her right was a cot in the corner and a desk set against the wall across from it, just below a window.

          The woman’s clothes were still there, so were some preserved foods. But not many items that seemed personal, it was possible she was sent off with them.

          It took her far longer than she would ever admit to do anything of note, simply standing there and looking around at the home like a lost child.

          Huffing out a vague sound of annoyance, Maiev became aware of how tightly clenched her hands were and forcibly relaxed them.

          She closed the door, shutting out the growing winds, and sat on the bed, staring down at the umbra crescent she held.

          It may as well have been a physical part of her, for how little she had let go of it since she walked out of Shadowmoon Valley. But she was safe now. She was away from the arcane, from demons, from everything vile and wrong in the world.

          She was _safe_.

          A moment too long and she slowly loosened her grip, propping her weapon against the chair tucked under the desk.

          A chill of anxiety coiled through her and she sat, still fully protected by her armour, with her hands clenched in her lap and eyes unable to move from the crescent as if it would disappear and leave her defenceless should she look away.

          She ground her teeth.

          He would want her to be afraid. He would _relish_ it.

          Her weapon was not a sentient thing capable of moving on its own. It would not _disappear._ She would be fine.

          Trying to put the absurd thought out of her mind, Maiev managed to tear her eyes away from the weapon and got to her feet.

          There was no need to wear her armour here – she rationalized as best she could – for much the same reasons.

          Illidan was dead. The Legion and its rogue demons were not here.

          Slowly she removed her armour, each piece feeling heavier the more she took off, until all of it was piled neatly just to the side of the bed. Her bladed cloak was folded and her helmet lay atop it.

          Under the layer of padding she wore a simple shirt and breeches, both of which had seen better nights. Her skin showed the trials of her life, numerous small and large scars cutting pale lilac shapes against her body. Some were messier than others, many had faded over time, and she used to have marks from the War of the Ancients. Those had all but disappeared now.

          Her fingers brushed the pendant hanging around her neck and she felt a lump lodge in her throat.

          It was a flat oval of wood, carved with utmost care to show an old sigil of protection on the surface. The vine like cord was just long enough to let it rest over her heart.

          A blessing from Califax made it so that even thousands of years after it was first given to her, it showed little to no signs of degradation. The Keeper had been amused at the concept and more than a little honoured when he received one of his own.

          Feeling like her throat would close if she didn’t distract herself, Maiev made use of the wash basin to the left of the door. The herbalist had a chest of drawers on that side for her clothes and a window set into the wall above it.

          The little home had evidently been built with rain collecting in mind and with the thickening patter of water on the roof, some had already been collected.

          Normal rain had never been an occurrence in the peninsula and certainly not in the valley. The broken sky there only spit fire and tainted lightning.

          The world crashed around her with a flash and a shattering of air. Maiev yelped and shoved away from the basin, curling her arms around her head as if to shield herself.

          The smell of the arcane clung to the air, its acrid stench wrinkling her nose, and Maiev whirled towards the spell caster whose lightning had barely missed her.

          His face paled and he brought up his hands, fire flickering around his fingers, and she disappeared before he could finish muttering his spell.

          Elune’s shadow embraced her even here, in this forsaken land, and she took some comfort in that. Elune _had_ to understand why she was here, why she had chased so relentlessly. Surely the Goddess would see her through this?

          She fell upon the male and her crescent sliced deep into the back of his neck. It caught in the bone and she wrenched it away, leaving his body to slump uselessly to the hard ground.

          An arrow glanced off her mantle and she growled, shooting a hasty glance to a blood elf archer to the north, on the ridges surrounding their makeshift camp.

          Screaming took her attention and Maiev turned her head just in time to see Milasri coated in arcane fire. The Watcher shrieked and staggered away from her attacker, skin and flesh rapidly sloughing off under the horrible assault.

          The smell of burning flesh and leather caught her even as she blinked again mid-charge, reappearing in front of the second spell caster so she could watch his eyes widen in alarm in fear. Her crescent lodged into his skull and she braced her boot against his chest, pulling it free angrily.

          Dust and sweat stung her eyes, clinging uncomfortably to her face. The air was hot enough to burn her nose and she ground her teeth, huffing out a laboured breath.

          “Retreat, sisters!”

          They were losing more than they were gaining in this position. Their enemy had the high ground and were becoming better equipped every night. Conventional tactics were becoming less viable as time went on and Maiev worked feverishly to find some way of making their numbers work.

          The Watchers began to regroup and head through a sheltered gulley to the north, a pre-planned escape route that mercifully stayed open to them.

          Like a falcon diving upon its prey, the last of their remaining dryads, Saldryn, halted a hulking naga myrmidon from cutting down on of the injured, slower Watchers. She avoided his trident and impaled him on her poisoned spear, hooves scraping against the dry, baked soil to push him back.

          “Mistress Shadowsong, they are nearly through!” she called, finally dislodging the naga from her weapon. The hard fighting had decorated her with splashes of naga and elven blood alike, matting with the dust in her fur.

          Maiev growled and cut down a blood elf soldier who tried to intercept, her energy flagging too much to blink again.

          As the remaining Watchers fled, she and Saldryn held the ever retreating line until they stood just inside the bottleneck of the gulley.

          Saldryn used some of her remaining of her energy to force dry, thorny coils up from the soil beneath them, tangling enemy combatants who tried to cross.

          The last of the Watchers had escaped.

          They turned to follow and Maiev felt the back of her neck prickle, an ill feeling crawling over her. That _stench_ came on again and she hastily looked over her shoulder mid-step. She was nearly blinded by the flash.

          Lightning snapped through the air and slammed into Saldryn’s back with a terrible, booming sizzle. She screamed, the noise garbled, and shuddered violently, but she did not fall right away. “Go!” she yelled, stabbing her spear into the ground as the magic being burned into her brought her to kneeling.

          The coils behind them grew further and started to wrap around some of the soldiers, crushing them until their blood spattered the dry soil beneath.

          Saldryn stared at her, desperation and pain twisting her expression, and the golden light of her eyes started to gutter. “ _Go!_ ”

          Bile rose in the bottom of her throat and Maiev forced her legs to keep moving. If the caster had a clear shot of Saldryn, they certainly had a clear shot of her.

          There was nothing to do but run.

 

Rain hammered against the roof tiles and she huffed, clenching her hands against the floor. She’d sank to her knees in the midst of it and her heart pounded as if fighting against a python’s coils.

          Heat rose in her face and she clenched her teeth, head bowing.

          Another flash and the sky exploded above her, forcing another yelp and a cascade chills down her spine. Maiev shook her head roughly, trying to say in control, _trying_ to grasp for tangible things to keep her grounded.

          She could still smell the magic and her stomach lurched, twisting on itself. Everything in her being revolted against it, threw her back to every instance the arcane had ever been used against her, against others, in order to bring pain and desolation.

          It was a disgusting thing that had only ever brought _ruin_.

          Out the corner of her eye she spotted the glass vials, flasks and bottles on the herbalist’s shelf, each one labelled neatly. She shuffled over to it and looked them over, picking up one labelled ‘mint oil.’

          The cork came out with ease and she sat against the chest of drawers, holding the vial close enough that the oil’s blisteringly strong scent invaded her nose. She closed her eyes and focused on it, willing the ghostly smell of arcane magic to leave her.

          A few long minutes dragged by as she let the scent dispel her wayward thoughts, anchoring her in the now, if only temporarily. The storm was still going after all.

          She cracked her eyes open and stared at the foot of the bed. It was built so there was space for storage under it, but all the herbalist had under there were some rolled up fur blankets for the colder months.

          It was darker under there.

          Swallowing her pride, Maiev shifted over to the bed and pulled the rolls of fur out, arranging them to ‘block’ that side of the bed. She left enough space for her to slip under and shifted the furs in place once she was settled.

          The storm felt a little further away. Her breathing was loud and washed over her own skin in the small space. It wasn’t comfortable, but it was dark and muffled just enough, tucked away _just enough_ to matter far more to her than the comfort of a bed.

          Clenching the mint oil tight in one hand, she fidgeted and rubbed some of it onto the wooden slats supporting the mattress just above her.

          Her heart slowly calmed and she held the vial to her chest, trying to concentrate on the scent again.

          The storm eventually calmed to a light patter, no longer threatening to claw at her memories, but by then she had managed to slip off, finally falling asleep without her armour for the first time in too many years.


	2. Mother Moon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be clear, the plan is to update every Friday. This is to give myself breathing room so I can work on the chapters a little more.

Time was hard to keep track of. It passed her the way a slow, old river passed a rock, splitting around it and wearing it away as the years came and went.

          Maiev did _not_ want to be that rock, eroding bit by bit until the river swallowed her, so she forced herself to step outside and walk through the forest, over the hills and along the streams. It was easier than exploring Darnassus, not as much noise.

          It wasn’t without its flaws, however, and once she reacted to one too many foraging animals as if they were assassins she felt little need to embarrass herself further.

          Perches could be found easily in Darnassus and she settled above one of the streets in the Crafter’s Terrace, overlooking the main body of it.

The thick branch held her weight easily, much lighter than usual. She was without the armour that so clearly identified her, having been without it since she took it off nearly two weeks ago.

Maiev knew it was absurd and a flare of heat ran through her belly just thinking about it, but she had been unable to pick up her armour any time she tried since removing it.

She wasn’t weak. She knew how strong her body was. Akama had seen to that once their plan was settled, finding enough decent meals to keep her fit and able. For whatever would suffice as ‘decent’ in the valley.

The Deathsworn ate whatever would satiate them more often than not, their bodies hardier than one might expect, and a few times Maiev had forced herself to eat, knowing if she didn’t she would be hampering herself.

Such logic did not ease the vile tasting food down any better.

During the time leading up to that final battle, Maiev would practice her techniques and keep her body as fit as she was able. It was something tangible to focus on.

But physical strength had nothing to do with it and she didn’t want to think about what the actual problem was.

The moon shined softly overhead and not a single cloud dared impede Her light from reaching them. It was the middle of the night and the people below were well into their routines. Couriers jogged from place to place, citizens browsed various stores and stalls, apprentices ran errands for their mentors.

At first a Sentinel or two would look up at her, but she faded from sight with a soft exhale as Elune embraced her in shadow.

A hammer striking metal made her frown and turn her head towards the distant source, fidgeting slightly with the material of her pants. She was mostly wearing cloth with a leather vest, boots and gloves. A hooded cloak kept her moderately indistinct and hard to recognize until one could see her face and the scars crossing it.

The noise was nothing sinister, she knew, just a smith working on something.

It was nothing.

A pair of Sentinels walked by below her and burst into laughter at some unheard joke. One clapped the other on the shoulder and they continued walking, turning a tower towards on the city’s tea houses.

Maiev tried not to let her mind wander as she watched them, but melancholy tugged at her regardless.

 

Salia’s laughter was deep and warm, not meant with malice but simple triumph and the joy of working out some frustration.

          Sweat and dirt clung to her skin and she offered a hand to Iradri. The younger Watcher allowed Salia to help her up, both smiling and tired from the sparring match.

          “You learned some new tricks,” Salia grinned, patting Iradri’s shoulder.

          “I thought I would surprise you,” Iradri returned the look and they both moved to pick up their shed gear from the edge of the ring.

          The Watchers often stripped to under layers when they sparred, leaving them less likely to injure themselves striking something hard. It also spared them needing to clean their gear more often, the bouts could get exhausting.

          The pair left the ring to the other Watchers and made for the spring to clean up, Salia complimenting Iradri’s technique and starting to exchange ideas about style and balance with the younger woman, before their chatter faded from the round chamber.

          Maiev simply watched as two others entered the ring, standing back against the far wall with her arms loosely crossed.

          The ring was a shallow depression of soft soil, outlined by flat bricks and built in a chamber not far from the cavern they used for proper training. Moonstone lamps hung from the ceiling to provide sufficient but gentle illumination to the bouts and benches were arranged around it for those who wished to watch.

          Off-duty women were gathered around the edges, throwing encouragement or light-hearted jeers as needed. Rarely did genuine maliciousness raise its ugly head amongst them. The ring was one of several means of relieving tension in the ranks and the fights were usually good natured.

          Maiev stepped in if they became genuine attempts at hurting each other, as if she were separating sabre cubs intent on proving who the better hunter was. She often treated the offending Watchers like they were little better and it had become rare for that kind of intervention to be necessary as a result.

          The two in the ring, Allirin and Talsa, were good friends and had been Watchers for nearly seven hundred years now. They previously served as huntresses in the Sentinel Army and brought their nightsabers with them when they joined.

          The large cats were a boon for patrolling and the barrow now hosted a decent stable of them.

          Maiev _was_ wary of having too many, balancing the prison’s needs was a minor headache but one she managed promptly.

          Talsa found herself flipped onto her back and the women around the ring cheered or yelled accordingly.

          Some made a game out of the bouts, setting up rules to make the fights more challenging and a test for their skills. Some could only be won by throwing an opponent on their back, others by getting an opponent out of the ring, by landing three consecutive strikes using only the hands, landing the first strike to a particular area of the body, and so on.

          They were even more creative when it came to board games and she still found it amusing that life in the barrow had produced two unique ones and a few variations on pre-Sundering ones.

          Salia was behind one of the unique games and Maiev had a difficult time forgetting the outright _mischievous_ smile on the boisterous woman’s face as she put the idea forward. She’d been working on it for years, quietly shaving off rough edges during her down time and smoothing out the rules.

          It was quite popular now, though Salia refrained from playing it herself as she felt it would be unfair. She did take a lot of pride in the fact that it was the most enjoyed, however.

          Her Watchers knew their duty, why they were here, and they were well trained, having no intention of forgetting their purpose. When they were not off-duty, they were unwavering in their task and so Maiev saw very little issue with allowing them multiple ways to wind down, even if she did not often partake in them herself.

          It was enough for her to hear them. After so much time, it was genuinely a comfort, whether they were sparring, chatting or simply walking by. The noise reminded her of what they were protecting and made the isolation bearable.

          They were her sisters, after all.

 

Salia’s was the first body Maiev discovered upon returning to the prison, kaldorei arrows buried in her back. She had tried to crawl to safety, making it some of the way into the hidden tunnel the Watchers used for access in and out the barrow.

          It had been an absolute mess to pick though, more than half of them were killed that night and a score died of their injuries after it. All of their prisoners had escaped in the chaos of it, along with Illidan, and it had been all the remaining Watchers could do to lock themselves in secure parts of the prison until it was over.

          Maiev did not want to think about what harm their charges caused, she _hoped_ most of them had been killed by the abundance of demons and undead roaming the forests at the time. The unspeakable things they would do otherwise…

          The bodies were dealt with as best they could be and the pendants of slain Watchers were collected, gathered in a stone dish in the chamber that served as their temple.

          Going to the city’s temple had occurred to her, of course, but she was unsure what she would do if she saw Tyrande and didn’t want to press her luck. Perhaps when she had a better idea of what she even wanted to say…

          Wincing, Maiev shook her head and pushed down a swell in her throat. She dropped from her perch and walked away from the noise of the city, finding it was beginning to grate on her nerves. She kept her head down and glanced warily at anyone who passed by too close for comfort.

          Eventually the city thinned out as she walked, giving way to the forest and Teldrassil’s mighty boughs, the stone and paving slabs of Darnassus fading into worn brick paths laden with moss. She walked until the path under her feet turned to dirt, her thoughts drifting in a haze too thick to easily come out of it.

          When she finally came to a stop, realizing she’d been walking without a single clear thought in her mind, Maiev blinked and looked around.

          She was standing in a small glade that seemed quieter than the rest of the forest, the canopy splitting above her to show the moon in all Her brilliant splendour.

          Maiev swallowed, feeling like a child with a suddenness that stole her breath as she stood there and fidgeted uncomfortably.

          The moonlight seemed stronger in the glade, as if it brought the barest of physical weight with it, like a feather alighting on the skin. Even that felt almost too much and Maiev swallowed again, thickly, against a rising bundle in her throat.

          Would it be worth trying again?

          Maiev slowly knelt and took a deep breath, attempting to calm herself. She recalled the words of her prayers as easily as if she had left the Sisterhood only a night ago. It was odd, to have the teachings still so clear to her, but she was in no place to be particular about comforts.

          Regardless, once the prayers came to an end she kept her head bowed and her hands flat against the grass.

          It had to be done, even if she wasn’t entirely sure about _wanting_ an answer. What good had come of it before, speaking to this Mother of theirs?

          “Was it my fault?” she murmured. “I trained them to be loyal, to our people, our sense of justice and to what was _right_. All so they could keep our people safe.”

          Her throat tried to close around the bundle, as if it had turned into a tangle of barbs, and she squeezed her eyes shut. “ _I_ was the one who instilled that. They spent so long with our charges, away from the happenings of the world above us. We loved you, that was _never_ in question, but it became such a distant idea that we should bend to a whim. No one cared to speak with us unless another cage needed to be filled.”

          A bitter line thinned her lips. Perhaps it had been unfair to feel hostility towards Tyrande and the Sentinels. The Watchers did not disrespect either and Maiev did not encourage them to do so, but neither did the Watchers, or she herself, feel endeared.

          Many new Watchers were surprised when they realized just how disconnected the barrow was, how easily forgotten it was. But they quickly grew to understand it was why the group was so tightly knit. If no one above cared to keep them in mind save for when they were needed, all they had to rely on was each other.

          Maiev bit back a growl, recalling a petty but thoroughly detrimental incident when their regular supply deliveries from outside fell through and the Watchers had to abruptly adjust and make do for several months.

          Eventually she sorted it out, organizing things in such a way that they became mostly self-sufficient. It took a number of years to settle but made things much smoother for them in the long run, leaving them no longer as reliant on the people above for most of what they needed.

          The years taught her much in that regard.

          But it was just another thing that distanced them, made them less likely to reach out and far less likely to bend. They didn’t need to be polite out of concern for their supply line and it added to their increasingly insular nature.

          Maiev slowly clenched her hands. “I did not think it would ever come to that. How could I expect anyone to ever _want_ him free, least of all those who agreed to his imprisonment? They were _there_ to witness his crimes!”

          When the chaos of the Third War started, Maiev had the barrow locked down and ventured out, leaving Naisha in charge. She watched her homelands be desecrated again by demons, undead and mortals alike and rushed back to the barrow, fearing for its security, only to find it ransacked in her absence by the very people they were supposed to see as allies.

          The Long Vigil was broken, their immortality was gone with Archimonde’s ashen husk hanging on the branches of a burned Nordarssil, and Illidan was free to wreak his havoc.

          It did not take long for innocents to suffer. Nendis could barely put up resistance with the few Sentinels it had left to protect it and Illidan cared nothing for slaughtering them to get away.

          So they gave chase, what else could they do?

          Anger roused like a ghost in her heart and Maiev narrowed her eyes at the moon, trying to control her breathing.

          When the bridge fell out from under Tyrande, she could not lie and say she felt no elation, no satisfaction, at seeing the High Priestess fall. A petty moment of her own perhaps, a selfish sort of joy she grasped with both hands and held tight.

          If Elune saw fit to unduly punish her and her Watchers after thousands of years of unwavering servitude, then Maiev would see fit to deprive the Goddess of Her beloved ‘chosen’ priestess.

          Maiev was not ignorant of the High Priestess’s abilities, Tyrande was powerful and protected by the Goddess Herself, so her survival was quite likely. Provided someone aid her in time. She could not hold out forever.

          The lie she told Malfurion was both out of practicality and vengeance. The undead would not be kind to Tyrande when she eventually fell. With such a fate for the one who started the chaos and with Illidan in reach she simply could _not_ allow Malfurion to divide their efforts. There was too much at stake and Maiev easily remembered feeling _so_ convinced that Tyrande deserved her fate. Part of her still believed it, vestigial rage that still burned inside her long after being buried in ash.

          _Who_ precisely did Tyrande think herself to be, to have so arrogantly walked into their barrow and judged them?

          But it was likely why everything fell apart, piece by piece, after Malfurion learned of her lie. He looked upon her like a demon, like she was suddenly no _better_ than Illidan himself, the fury in his eyes all but shimmering. There was no perspective there, only the thought for his beloved, for what she meant to _him_ rather than what her actions had brought them all to.

          And so he left Maiev there, tangled in roots and vines that nearly crushed the air from her, watching as he and Illidan walked away to save Tyrande _together_.

          Elune saw fit to punish her, a mother hitting her child without reason, and Maiev pushed back, the child kicking and breaking things because she was too small to do anything better.

          Perhaps she should consider herself lucky that all Elune chose to do to her then was to break her heart further.

          Too many times to count, Maiev fumed and yelled at Elune, pacing in the cage Illidan threw her in. She accused the Goddess of favouritism, of cherishing the joy of Her High Priestess over the rest of Her children. Why else would She so flagrantly disregard her Watchers when Tyrande began to cut them down?

Rarer were the times Maiev broke down and demanded, _begged_ to understand why any of it was allowed to happen.

          All that effort, all that _time_ spent watching monsters for people too afraid to decide what to do with them.

          Maiev ground her teeth and her brow furrowed in a deep frown. With her throat constricting around her voice, she barely spoke above a whisper. “They understood we could not allow him to roam and what capturing him could mean for any of us,” she murmured, feeling a sting in her eyes she couldn’t hold back. “I do not think _I_ realized what it would mean, until now…” her voice cracked and she grit her teeth as the moon blurred into a blaze of white, meshing with the fuzzy lines of the canopy.

          Grief spilled down her face and she bowed her head, fingers curling tight into the dirt.

          So many voices she would never hear again, faces she would _never_ see again. It had never come to her before, in the cage, on the road back, all that mattered was getting the job done and _surviving._ She couldn’t afford to let herself think about it then lest it break her.

          But now?

          Now there was nothing else to think about.

          The strength drained from her and she slumped to her side, curling up and wrapping her arms around herself.

          It wouldn’t be until her eyes were dry as bone that she picked herself up and left, retreating to the darkness of the house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Given that Maiev was a priestess before she became a Warden, I figured something like this had to have happened at some point.


	3. Snakeshead

Over the next several nights she avoided walking in the forest, just in case she found that glade again. Poor luck would have it that she stumble into it regardless of her intentions.

          An irrational though, she knew, but she didn’t want to face it again so she spent the nights walking and perching in the city or trying to exercise.

          If she just continued to work on the physical side of things neither her armour nor her crescent would be so heavy.

          Wishful thinking or simple hard-headedness was just as likely.

          Darnassus was busy but relatively quiet, the evening beginning to slowly wane. The chill in the air was beginning to grow more apparent and Maiev eyed the sky, watching grey clouds roll in to smother Her brilliance.

          She sighed and began to make her way back to the house, drifting through the crowds like a ghost.

          Turning a corner in the path, Maiev froze as she glimpsed something utterly impossible. It set off alarms in her mind and was gone in the next second. Her heart lurched and she hurried towards it, searching the crowd and each face she could see.

          To her right, again, there it was and only for a second.

          Maiev weaved between people on the street and kept her eyes on the back of a kaldorei woman with long, dark green hair.

          It was a ridiculous thought, a fanciful one, something only childlike denial and hope could throw up and present to her as possible.

          No, no, the gait was wrong, she carried herself the wrong way. It _couldn’t_ be-

          Finally the woman stopped to talk with a Sentinel and Maiev saw her properly.

          She was the same height, had the same hair colour and similar skin tone but…

          Bitterness rippled through her and Maiev abruptly turned away, causing someone to grunt in surprise as she brushed by.

          Why she allowed herself to think, even for a moment, that it could have been Naisha was beyond her.

          She was at the house before she knew it and slammed the door behind her, clenching and relaxing her hands in a silence that stifled her like a wrapping of seal blubber.

          Pining like a child was a useless waste of time and energy she could use elsewhere, she _knew_ better and she _still_ allowed herself to think it possible.

          Her heart ached and she exhaled slowly, regret quickly forming a sick, oozing feeling at the back of her throat like bitter sap. Maiev clenched one hand over her gut and the other around her pendant, closing her eyes.

          “Naisha…”

 

The storm front of the Maelstrom could be seen from the isles, glowering and dark, looming on the horizon far out to sea. It never drew closer but one could feel the tension in the air from it, the threatening crackle of magic thrown into eternal turmoil. It and the ruins scattered around them were reminders of a different time, something Maiev did not need. But she could use them to fuel her resolve. The Maelstrom, the Sundering, the entire war that came before them, _all_ of it was why Illidan’s sentence had been so severe. _He_ put them at risk of going through it all over again, barely within a night of their people collecting themselves after the world finished breaking itself apart for their arrogance.

          He would have rather have lost the world in its entirety than let go of the arcane, dooming _everyone_ for his own selfish wants. It was why they could not back down. Already people had suffered because of him. His defeat of Tichondrius was crucial, yes, but one act did not absolve him and it did not take long for him to lash out against a city’s worth of people who had nothing to do with his exile. The people of Nendis were proof of his warped nature.

          Their capacity to gather and trade what they needed was already shaken thanks to the war. The loss of Nendis would only worsen the situation and Maiev did not want to consider how many more would suffer for it.

          On these broken remnants of what used to be her childhood home, they had a chance to correct that atrocity.

          Her Watchers were nearly ready to attack. When night fell upon the isles once more they would strike, quick and precise. Hit and run tactics have been serving them well the last week. Once their base camp was set up, small teams of Watchers ventured out and used the waterways between spits of land as choke points. Saldryn and the other dryads set up thorn coated nets in the narrow water ways to catch naga scouts and food alike. Their nature magic was a boon and the druids who accompanied them from Val'sharah were much the same, slinking amongst the trees as panthers to surprise small parties of naga.

         Cordana spared two dozen sisters from the Vault and Maiev asked for no more. The Den was utterly devastated, she would not see the Vault compromised as well and ordered Cordana to seal it until Illidan was dealt with.

          His forces were worn down enough that they would be able to break through to the tomb in the coming evening.

          Provided she could get any asleep.

          Her nerves refused to cooperate and her mind buzzed, so Maiev paced restlessly at the edge of the camp. Briefly, she stared upon the glowing shell of arcane magic that surrounded the heart of Suramar across the waves, locked away since before the Sundering. Her lips curled in disgust and anger, quietly hoping that those within suffered in their self-made cage. Highborne were all the same, preserving their own well-being, their own power, above everything else. They could have helped the war effort and instead chose to hide, nothing more than simpering, privileged  _cowards_. 

          Most of her Watchers were asleep, some on guard duty, but she did not go unnoticed.

          “Mistress, shouldn’t you be resting?”

          Naisha’s deferential tone was softened by concern.

          Maiev turned towards her, sighing in frustration, and Naisha simply offered a half-smile.

          “I have tried,” Maiev muttered, returning to her pacing when she started to fidget.

          Ignoring the shallow dip her mistress was forming in the sand, Naisha glanced over her shoulder at the rest of the camp, quiet as it was. Clearly satisfied they were out of ear-shot, Naisha crossed her arms and looked back at Maiev. “You’re worried about our quarry?”

          Maiev shook her head. “This island should not exist, Naisha. Azshara blighted the temple here with her demonic allies, it was gone, it should have remained gone, and now _he_ is here trying to claim Goddess knows what in that tomb,” she came to a stop, facing Naisha. “It feels as if events are repeating themselves. I pray it does not lead to similar destruction.”

          Naisha was just young enough to not have fought as a soldier during the War of the Ancients, though she saw much conflict and killed a few demons herself. But she certainly remembered the Sundering and the damage caused. Her entire family drowned as the seas swallowed the land.

          When the Sentinel Army was established in the following years, Naisha trained to become one of them yet still found her life lacking fulfilment. It would be another thirty years until she finally approached the Barrow Prison and asked to join the Watchers. She wasn’t from Suramar, but she definitely understood why Maiev was so restless.

          Naisha took a breath and let it out slowly. “We’ll stop him, Maiev. If not here, then later, wherever he decides to run we’ll be at his heels. He can’t run forever,” she said calmly, stepping closer to reach out a hand.

          When Maiev turned to pace in the other direction, Naisha pressed that hand to the Warden’s shoulder and made her pause, catching Maiev’s eyes. “You can’t be vigilant every second either.”

          Maiev stared at her silently for several long moments, the waves burbling and lapping against the sand not far from them. She sighed and shook her head. “My lack of vigilance caused this,” she said flatly, moving away from Naisha to settle on a broken wall facing the sea.

          The ominous distant rumbling of the Maelstrom carried on the wind and Naisha glanced towards it momentarily, frowning, and sat down on the wall next to Maiev.

          She slipped her leather head gear off and ran a hand through her hair, loosening it some. “That wasn’t your fault. _I_ was the one in charge. You were looking out for our safety, we failed to expect a threat from the inside,” she said as evenly as she could.

          Evidence of that horrible event still showed on the Watchers, including Naisha. She still experienced some degree of pain from injuries yet to fully heal.

          Silence hung heavy between them and Naisha turned her head, trying to catch Maiev’s gaze again. Maiev was silently thankful for her helmet masking most of her face, her brow furrowed as she stared at the waves and remained utterly unaware of how tightly her hands clenched on the handle of her crescent.

          Naisha rubbed the back of her neck and turned her eyes on the water. “What do we do after this?”

          Maiev looked at her then, eyes narrowing in confusion.

          “What do we do about our slain sisters?”

          “Ah…”

          “You’ve thought about this, then?”

          “It has rarely _left_ my thoughts, Naisha.”

          Sadness and guilt softened her tone and Maiev lowered her eyes to the sand beneath her boots.

          Again, the silence came and brought with it an unspoken truth to them. They knew what their situation was and what exactly could be done about it.

          Naisha’s tone was bitter as she propped her elbows on her knees. “She is Elune’s _Chosen_ is she not?”

          A vague noise of agreement escaped Maiev. “I do not want to tell them what this means for us. They are angry and they have every reason to be,” she sighed at the end, head hanging. “I _want_ to believe something will come of it, that she will answer for it. What she inflicted upon us was not justice! But… she is beloved and we were in the way of her blessed _righteousness_.”

          Her words brought a tightness to Naisha’s voice the next time she spoke, as if her lieutenant was holding back a swell of grief. “We _will_ recapture him, Maiev. That’s at least one wrong we can set right.”

 

Outside the house was a fire pit lined with stones and a wooden spit built over it. The herbalist kept a few other basic utensils and tools for her cooking either hanging on hooks near the door outside or stored on a simple two level shelf below the front window.

          Maiev had yet to touch them, keeping herself sustained on preserved meat, bread and fruits rather than anything as substantial as a prepared meal. She would eventually, she told herself, but for now she had much more pressing matters.    Such as standing outside the little house, holding her crescent in what _should_ have been a perfect stance.

          It felt prudent to distract herself the last few nights, so she was trying to go through some of her old routines, something that was quickly becoming an exercise in futility.

          She felt clumsy and slow, going through the motions and techniques used to wield her deadly weapon, and she practiced until her breathes came heavy in the cool air of Teldrassil’s late dusk. Sweat beaded on her skin and she cursed from time to time as she stepped too far and went stumbling like a cub overestimating its reach.

          An ill feeling slithered through her.

          _‘You are weak,_ woman _.’_

          Maiev ground her teeth, skin prickling. She snarled and whirled around, swinging her weapon only to lodge it deep into one of the corner beams of the house. Tremors shot up her arms and she tried to immediately pull it free.

          When it refused to budge she yelled in frustration and let go of it, backing away. It wouldn’t do her any favours if she let it take hold of her and she raked her hands through her hair, trying to calm her thoughts.

          He was gone. He was _gone_ and she had killed him.

          The vile grate of his laughter echoed through her, mocking her efforts to dispel him.

          Maiev wiped a hand down her face, fingertips unconsciously ghosting her scars, and turned away with a growl.

          She grabbed one of her knives, slotting it into her belt, and went running into the forest, trying to push herself until she burned. It was something to focus on.

          Night had fallen completely by the time she stopped at a small stream, kneeling to drink gratefully. Her body protested at her treatment and she spent a few minutes there, listening to the water trickle by and her own laboured breathing.

          Goddess, _why_ could she not put it behind her? Had she not paid enough for her failings? Were the lives of the Watchers not enough of a weight to carry?

          Lying on her back, Maiev cracked her eyes open to stare at the canopy above, star and moonlight alike shining between the boughs.

          “Why did I survive…?” she muttered, a hollow chill coiling through her at the absurdity of it.

          That entire fight atop the Black Temple she had remained focused, intensely so, knowing there was absolutely no room for error. She could not _afford_ error.

          Triumph was supposed to come easily and she had wanted so badly to feel exalted, _vindicated_ , as if something had finally been put _right._

          But his words were corrosive.

          He was wrong about being needed, certainly. His specific presence was a detail that could be filled by any kind of scum. It was with his death, however, that the last thing that even _hinted_ at her existence was finally destroyed.

          The prison was in ruin, her Watchers were dead and Goddess only knew where her brother was.

          She had no purpose and no one left who was even remotely connected to her.

          Why did she even return?

          The knife on her belt felt heavy with a sudden insistence and Maiev sat up, swallowing thickly. She shook her head and tried to push the suggestion from her mind.

          It would not help and she could _not_ allow herself to think it would.

          Gathering what remained of her nerves she pushed herself to her feet and took a deep breath, trying to organize her thoughts.

          Distant squawks caught her attention, pulling her gaze to the north, off to her left. Panicked yelling followed quickly and she frowned, gritting her teeth.

          Something was wrong.

          Against the anxiety rippling through her, she ran towards the commotion and found an overgrown path between the split of a fallen tree. Lightning must have struck it some time ago.

          The noise grew louder and she recognized the squawks to be from harpies. Whoever they were harassing continued to scream, pleading to be spared and left alone.

          Finally she reached the crest of a small hill and hid amongst the roots of a tree.

          There was a wide glade below her littered with bramble patches, one of which a male kaldorei was hiding in. He was sporting a few scrapes, cuts from talons and thorns alike, and tried to make himself as small a target as possible. The thorny coils _were_ keeping the harpies at bay, for now, but they would get through eventually unless someone helped him.

          Thoughts in a flurry, Maiev reached for her knife and tried to swallow. It felt like frozen fish hooks had bundled in her throat and cold tremors began to well in her stomach like the acid was icing over.

          Feverishly she tried to shake them off, ignore it. She _had_ to focus.

          What could she use?

          There was some snakeshead on her way up the hill. Thanks to the time of year they were decorated with clumps of bright, poisonous berries. It was one of many plants children were taught how to identify and stay away from as early as possible.

          Doubling back, Maiev found the plants and drew both edges of her knife along the fruit until the blade was thickly coated. It wouldn’t kill but it would burn and cause more pain than clean cuts.

          The male’s yelling intensified and she ground her teeth, moving back up the hill.

          The harpies were beginning to hack at the brambles around him with weapons, some of them seemingly stolen from unfortunate Sentinels judging by the triple bladed glaives.

          She couldn’t waste any more time.

          With her heart in her throat, Maiev took a deep, slow breath and focused as best she could. Mercifully, Elune embraced her and she exhaled, blinking and reappearing behind one of the harpies.

          Her knife sank into their spine to a chorus of angry screeches.

          Their wing beats became a fervent cacophony and the three remaining harpies descended on her just as she pulled her knife from their dead sister.

          She darted back, barely avoiding talons that slashed from her eyes, and managed to open a long and nasty cut on one of their thighs. The sticky coating on her blade remained enough from her initial strike and the harpy recoiled in seconds. The effected leg curled closer to her body as the burning sensation took hold.

          Maiev weaved around another swipe at her head, slashing at the offending harpy’s foot. The wretched thing was not so easily deterred and swiped, clipping Maiev’s forearm and opening three shallow cuts.

          Hissing, Maiev focused again and disappeared just as the remaining pair clawed at her position. The badly injured one seemed to have fled.

          Maiev reappeared on the far side of the patch, peering at the male cowering within for just a second. He had fallen quiet, simply watching her with wide fearful eyes. He was a slim fellow, not a fighter by any means.

          One of the harpies landed momentarily to blow a crude horn while the other darted towards her. Maiev ducked under their talons, reaching up and grabbing them by the tail feathers. She yanked as hard as she could, pulling a few out and knocking the bird woman off balance.

          The harpy flailed to right herself and Maiev swung high, sinking her blade into the harpy’s flank. She wrenched it sideways and opened an ugly wound, forcing the creature to land in a heap of painful cawing.

          Eyes shining with vengeful rage, the second harpy lunged at her and Maiev just about managed to dodge around the edge of the patch, nearly catching herself on some of the thorns. Wings almost battered her but the harpy was too persistent and caught herself on the thorns. Her feathers did not fare well and as she struggled to free herself, Maiev sank her knife into the harpy’s chest.

          The creature shuddered and slumped, still half stuck on the brambles, and Maiev stumbled back, breathing hard.

          “A-Are they gone?” the man in the patch asked meekly.

          She was about to answer when a larger figure shot up from the edge of the glade. Maiev turned to face them, knife lifting, and all sensation flooded from her in one frozen second.

          Illidan descended upon her.

          He slammed into her and took her to the ground, wing beats buffeting her, claws raking at her arms and shoulders, trying to get at her eyes. Maiev screamed and kicked out against him, feeling the uncaring rock of the cell floor press into her back.

          There was no canopy above, no hint of Elune’s light, only the insidious glow of that blasted lantern hanging from the ceiling, filling her senses with sickly sweet, nauseating smells from burning herbs and other substances meant to toy with her.

          He wanted her uncomfortable, restless, always pacing and barely able to sleep. It made it easier to enter the cell and torment her, gouging lines into her skin as a permanent reminder of her 'failures.'

          Illidan snarled and clawed with greater ferocity at her head, eyes blazing through the thin cloth of his tattered blindfold. Corruption roiled off of him like the rot of a corpse and Maiev swallowed the bile in her throat.

          Something hit Illidan from behind and he growled, snapping his wings back and turning to look over his shoulder.

          There was a man standing behind him, a slim kaldorei, holding a branch with a terrified look on his face.

          Maiev blinked quickly and the walls of the cell were _gone._

          It wasn’t Illidan.

          Teldrassil’s grass flattened beneath her and she stared for a second at the large harpy above her.

          The creature’s feathers were dyed black, the rest of her body covered in coiling green patterns and dashes of red, like war paint. She shrieked and tried to claw for the male, causing him to stumble back and fall on his rear with a yelp.

          Maiev ground her teeth and took her knife in both hands, ramming it into the harpy’s belly. The creature screamed and tried to get away, but not before Maiev yanked the blade upwards and sliced her open.

          Blood and innards spilled onto Maiev and the harpy flailed, weakly slumping and twitching as she tried to keep herself in one piece.

          Maiev crawled out from under her and staggered upright, her knuckles white on the knife hilt.

          The trembling male looked at her, branch still clutched tightly. “Th-Thank you…”

          She wasn’t listening.

          Maiev turned on her heel and numbly started to walk in the vague direction of the shelter she’d been given.

          The male did not follow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will have a surprise.


	4. From Memory

Giving too much importance to her crawlspace felt like a pitfall waiting to happen, no matter how much of a comfort it was.

          She was not supposed to be a frightened little mouse hiding away in its hole. But it _was_ a safe spot, tucked away from everything that might hurt her, and the herbalist had kept it relatively clean and dust free, something Maiev tried to keep up.

          Sometimes she would forget, when her thoughts became so much sludge that she could not pick through them.

          The low moments were humiliating affairs that had Maiev internally seething at herself. It wouldn’t do her any favours not to care for her environment or herself. _Nothing_ had been out of place back at the barrow…

          Perhaps that was why she found herself lagging behind in that regard. The barrow was in ruin and so was she, in ways she did not wish to consider. Not that her resistance meant anything to her mind, stubbornly throwing torment at her like a moody child throwing clods of mud.

          She awoke sputtering, nearly slamming her head into the frame of the bed as she flailed and tried to free herself from the hands she could still feel pulling at her, just for a handful of seconds.

          They wanted to drown her, spectres of her dead sisters, eyes hollow and burning, bubbles erupting from their mouths as they dragged her down into the depths and darkness of the flooded tomb.

          Maiev’s throat burned from the saltwater and she reached for it, awkwardly turning on her side.

          There was little light coming from outside, no glaring breaks between the rolls of fur.

          Perhaps she deserved this agonizing limbo she found herself in, Maiev reasoned, because she was the one who refused to stop. If she had just waited, taken more time to gather new people to her cause, _maybe_ some of the original Watchers would still be alive.

          She never would have been able to follow Illidan through that damned portal in time. He would have slipped away unchallenged, left to his own devices for years without resistance.

          Possibilities were pointless to think about. Thinking about things she could have done differently only led to frustration and feeling an intense need to distance herself from her weapons.

          She hadn’t touched them since that fight with the harpies a few nights ago.

          The male had visited her last night and tried to talk with her, knocking the door and offering thanks. She gave no answer and remained seated on the bed, staring at the ceiling and silently willing him to leave her be.

          Eventually he did, leaving small parcels of tea leaves, some coin and a packet of preserved meat as thanks.

          She had yet to use any of it, but she had brought them inside.

          Huffing out a tired breath, Maiev dressed herself and left the house, making sure her hood was properly tugged over her head. She did not want contact, only solace.

 

The temple felt almost too quiet as she walked inside, her steps sounded too loud even though she knew she was walking lightly.

          Being there felt like she was _daring_ something to go wrong but thankfully it was not so different from the temples she remembered.

          The moss was soft beneath her feet as she found a quiet spot to settle on the ground floor, her back pressed to the outer wall of the central camber.

          Priestesses paid her little mind, passing by in silence or otherwise greeting her and trying to ask if she required anything. Eventually they seemed to realize she was best left alone, quietly staring at the statue in the centre of the temple.

          Not all of them realized that.

          Maiev was unsure how long it took, her mind slipped into a fog when she fixated on the way the glow of the moonwell played off the statue’s angles and slopes, but eventually she was approached for more than idle pleasantries.

          “You have nothing to fear from me. I know the meaning of loyalty, Priestess,” she said evenly, only just keeping the caustic edge from her voice.

          The barb did not go unnoticed, judging from the shift in Tyrande’s posture. If she was offended she refrained from showing it.

          “I came only to ask how you are faring, Maiev.”

          Hot prickling scattered across the nape of her neck and Maiev’s jaw set tightly, holding back a bark of cold laughter.

          That sort of question from _Tyrande_ of all people?

          Maiev genuinely hadn’t planned to engage with the High Priestess, but Tyrande’s words sparked something vindictive within her, as if providing fresh air to a pile of dying embers. It was a feeling she had not encountered for quite some time now.

          She took a breath and her mouth curled with bitterness. “Everyone I have known for thousands of years, women I personally trained, worked alongside of and lived with are dead. You can give me whatever rationalities you wish, _Priestess_ , but the fact remains that over half of my sisters died directly because of you. The rest were indirect, yet still died because of you actions.”

          She got to her feet and brushed herself off. “Let us not mention,” she said tersely, “the rest of the prisoners who escaped as a direct result of your actions. Let us not mention the people of Nendis, who you will remember Illidan slaughtered.”

          Still the High Priestess remained composed. “Killing Illidan-”

          Maiev growled, interrupting her. “Illidan’s death was an end and little else. There is no closure to be had in this. But you asked how I am _faring_ ,” she finally turned her head to look Tyrande in the eye. “I breathe and that would be enough for most.”

          Oddly, Tyrande seemed to study her for a moment and Maiev had the distinct feeling it was the scars on her face that drew the other woman’s attention most.

          Tyrande tilted her head and her expression finally changed, showing some degree of regret. “For most, it would be. But I was the one who put you in this state. I would be cruel to simply leave you to it.”

          A huff of false laughter shunted from Maiev. Did the High Priestess actually feel _guilty_ for her actions? Now, years after the fact, years after the point it would have been useful or appreciated in full, she wanted to fix her mistake?

          There was nothing Tyrande could do to bring back any of them. She could have the prison rebuilt but Maiev knew she was in no state to return to her position as Warden, it would be utterly irresponsible.

          Not to mention that the prison itself was a tangled mess of emotions she did not have the energy to deal with. There were too many memories and no one left who shared them.

          Maiev shook her head. “Do not waste your time, Priestess,” she sighed tiredly. “You cannot help me _now_ , when there is nothing left to salvage.”

          The High Priestess did not mask her emotions in full and for a second a flash of pity crossed her face.

          Maiev tasted bile at the back of her throat and clenched her jaws. It was the _last_ thing she needed from Tyrande and she spoke as evenly as she could. “I should leave you to your duties, Priestess. Excuse me.”

          She turned away only to find a hand at her arm and looked back at Tyrande as calmly as she could.

          Tyrande let go of her, frowning lightly. “Maiev, please allow me to do something. Are you sure there is nothing I can do?”

          Maiev swallowed her anger and considered her words carefully, staring at Tyrande’s honest and, dare she hope, remorseful expression.

          It came so easily to her after but a moment’s thought. “You are closer to our Mother Moon than I will ever be. Ask if She wept for my sisters as you cut them down. Ask if She approved of your ‘right’ to slaughter them in Her name. I would like to know the answer, Priestess.”

          _That_ she could not hide her reaction to. It was if Tyrande had been struck and she opened her mouth slightly as if to speak but closed it tight just as quick. It seemed words would not come to her and her brow furrowed more.

          Maiev felt the anger drain from her as if slowly bleeding out through her feet. She turned on her heel and walked out of the temple, clenching her hands over and over.

          There was no triumph, no satisfaction, only the grief she harboured each and every night for what was lost.

          How could she possibly enjoy anything of the like when the people she would share it with were gone?

 

When she next flailed awake the sun was barely setting.

          Maiev washed her face and tried to clear her head, tried to _force_ her thoughts into some organized pattern for the sake of her pride. A futile effort and one she was beginning to question.

          Exhaling felt as if it took a sliver of her energy with it each time and Maiev rubbed at her brow as if the gesture would instil clarity.

          If she stayed inside, she would do little more than lay around _moping_ to herself, doing nothing to improve her situation.

          Unkind, perhaps, but she was sick and tired of feeling this way. It was frustrating, exhausting and no small measure of embarrassing. She was a _Warden_ , a relentless pursuer of justice, tireless! Yet she could do nothing but sigh deeply at the thought of going outside.

          Clenching her hands tight she pushed away from the bed and sluggishly pulled her clothes on.

          The walk to the city was quiet and slow, most of her focus on putting one foot in front of the other. By the time the moon finally graced the sky, Maiev found herself standing outside a bakery, snapped out of her thoughts by the smell of spice and honey on the air.

          It was cloying, the way it tugged at her, reminded her of the sweet buns Isarin used to make. She taught some of the other Watchers how to make them, mentioning each time that it was her father’s recipe and that he’d taught her when she was a child.

          It never bothered them, to hear it again. Isarin’s smile was too warm to dampen when she said it was her way of keeping his memory alive.

          With her eyes stinging, Maiev turned on her heel and forgot any notion of shame for staying inside. She cursed under her breath, feeling a knot in her throat, and hurried around a corner without looking.

          She failed to notice the other body and collided with someone, nearly knocking them flying with a harsh grunt on their end.

          For once, she was neither clumsy nor slow. She grabbed for them and managed to catch them by the shoulder and arm, made slightly difficult by the thick, hooded cloak they had wrapped around them.

          Clutching their staff, the stranger awkwardly allowed Maiev to right them and probably would have spoken had she not blinked away once they were standing again.

          She needed to. Her nerves felt raw and exposed, her gut trembled as if she was sick.

          A few more blinks between the trees and she finally reached her shelter. She stepped inside and slid down against the door once it was shut, drawing her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms around her head, eyes screwed shut in a deep frown.

          Going outside had been a mistake. Trying to _convince_ herself there was any merit to it had been a mistake.

          When had she ever stopped making mistakes?

          A pathetic noise slithered out of her and Maiev curled tighter on herself, strangling the sob in her throat.

          The world became little more than a fleeting idea to her at that point, grief and self-loathing coalescing into something exhaustingly painful that left her crying into her knees.

          But eventually her eyes dried and she sat staring emptily at the shelves across from her, feeling as if her entire body had been filled with ice and nails.

          What was she still doing here?

          Something wooden tapped her door and she all but jumped out of her skin, chills pooling in her belly like a sack of eels.

          If it was the person she nearly flattened, the least she could do was apologize. She could manage _that_ , couldn’t she?

          She began to stand and quickly lamented her choice of position, aches flaring up along her body thanks to sitting there much longer than she thought.

          Gathering her nerves, Maiev reached for the handle.

          “Maiev?”

          Her heart stopped.

          The voice was muffled by the door but it couldn’t possibly be anyone else.

          Nearly wrenching the door off its hinges, Maiev stared at the cloaked figure from earlier. Their hood was down this time. She could see their face and it struck her like a spear of fire through her chest.

          Naisha stared at her, staff held tightly to lean upon, and offered a tentative smile. She started to talk, her mouth was moving, but Maiev couldn’t hear her. She couldn’t hear _anything_.

          Strength fled from her body as the world blurred and turned sideways. The last she saw was the floor rushing to meet her.

 

Maiev jolted awake, inhaling sharply and staring at the ceiling of her house.

          The door clicking shut drew her attention and she slowly sat up, finding herself settled on top of her bed.

          “Maiev?” Naisha turned towards her with a concerned look. Her hand was pressed against the wall on her right side as if for support.

          Maiev could hardly remember to breath, watching as her once-lieutenant awkwardly moved to settle in the chair across from her bed, just within arm’s reach.

          She wanted to reach out just to make sure Naisha was solid.

          Worry furrowed Naisha’s brow. “You scared me for a moment there, you just collapsed.”

          Finally her mind unfroze itself and Maiev swallowed the dryness on her tongue.

          “How?” she breathed. It was all she could think to say.

          Naisha looked mostly the same, if a touch more weathered, tired. There were old cuts across her jaw and nose that hadn’t been there before, but nothing as obvious as Maiev’s own scarring.

          With a sigh, Naisha brushed a hand through her hair, cut shorter than it used to be. The ends rest around her shoulders where before they had fallen to the middle of her back.

          The once-huntress spoke with no small level of remorse. “You remember the tomb was flooding as it collapsed? Once the water level was high enough, those of us who could manage it tried to swim to safety between the rocks,” she said, frowning and averting her eyes to the floor. They didn’t focus and she just seemed to stare through it. “Most of our sisters couldn’t move. I managed to get out, but everyone else who tried was caught by demons, naga, collapsing walls or they just… couldn’t hold their breath long enough. I barely survived it.”

          Silence hung between them as Maiev tried to process the information, running it through her mind as calmly as she could manage. They were details she didn’t wish to know, mental imagery of her Watchers being crushed by collapsing passages or drowned by naga flickering through her. But Naisha was _alive_ and she would endure anything to keep it that way.

          Maiev took a deep breath and shifted, crossing her legs and leaning her back against the wall to face Naisha. “What stopped you from reaching us?”

          An apologetic look flashed across Naisha’s face and she tore her gaze from the floor to look at Maiev, opening her mouth. Maiev lifted her hand, “I am not angry, Naisha. I only wish to know.”

          Naisha sighed, “I know, I’m just…” she shook her head. “I was bleeding when I escaped into open water. The local wildlife found me before I got to shore and caught me by the leg. I still had a knife with me, so I managed to get away but when I finally got to shore I wasn’t in any state to be helpful or communicate.”

          She gestured to her right leg and Maiev finally looked down. Naisha’s leathers were neatly secured with a few straps, clearly showing that she was missing her right leg just below the knee.

          An ill, hot feeling crawled through her at being unable to protect Naisha, for abandoning her Watchers in the first place. Her hands clenched tightly on her knees.

          Maiev lifted her gaze back to Naisha’s face. “What then?”

          Sourness curled Naisha’s mouth into a very false smile. “I was ‘rescued’ by a goblin called Marl Serwix. He was in charge of some research group taking samples of the local flora and fauna, searching for profit in alchemical mixtures. He knew if he helped me I would be indebted to him and I was too weak to fight or say anything. By the time I recovered, you and Illidan were long gone. Marl and his team moved on, I had no idea where to even begin looking for you and as much as I hated the fact, I owed him my life.”

          She scowled then. “He would throw me the tedious, menial little tasks he didn’t want to deal with, promising he would have a replacement limb fashioned for me in a month. That turned into the next month, and the next after that, and so on,” Naisha smiled stiffly. “You can probably guess when he around to it.”

          Shrugging, Naisha averted her eyes again. “But eventually he got into a rivalry with someone and I don’t recall the names involved. It got… bad, enough so that I could escape in the chaos. I think he’s dead now. I never tried to check.”

          Evidently, by the time Naisha was free of Marl, she was so far from home that she had no idea where she was or how to get back. She had never been to the Eastern Kingdoms before and while her common was serviceable it caused some problems when terminology was mixed up.

          The lack of coin didn’t help either.

          Naisha rubbed the back of her neck. “The journey here was more of an adventure than I want to get into right now. I kept my head down once I finally hit Ashenvale, no one really knew who I was and I didn’t want to draw attention to myself,” she said, pointedly avoiding Maiev’s stare and fidgeting with her hands. “I didn’t hear about your return until a week ago, some Sentinels were talking about it. I…” her voice faltered, expression steadily contorting with grief and regret. “I am sorry. I am _so_ sorry, Maiev. I should have tried harder, you shouldn’t have faced him alone, I-”

          Maiev reached across and grabbed Naisha by her cloak, silencing her once-lieutenant with a tight hug.

          Something fractured in the other woman and Naisha’s arms fell around Maiev’s waist, her voice trembling and cracking as she kept trying to apologize.

          With tears falling on her skin, Maiev closed her eyes and gently propped her chin on Naisha’s shoulder. “All that matters to me is that you are _alive_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If they can bring back Muradin with some hand-wave amnesia then you can be damn sure I'll find a way for Naisha.


	5. Second Wind

It came as no surprise to her that Naisha would want to know about Illidan’s demise and she easily detailed it for her old lieutenant. It was one of many memories seared into her over the years.

Over a score of brave heroes fought against the Betrayer with the fury of a hundred, bleeding for the safety of Outland.

The sky was torn between hues of grey and sickly yellows, streaked with the corrupted greens of fel fire racing to meet the decimated ground below. Redirected spells scattered shards of blue, purple and healthier greens against the clouds and golden lashes burned Illidan’s hide.

Gouts of acrid smoke roiled from his body and he _screamed_ when the silver fire of Elune wreathed him, all but immolating him as if the Goddess herself had finally passed judgement.

The priestess responsible for _that_ particular attack was carried away from the fight missing most of her left arm, but as far as Maiev was aware she had survived Illidan’s retaliation.

It finally began to turn in their favour once Maiev managed to clip his infernal wings, slicing into the membrane with her crescent until the limbs became useless. He would have coated her in fel fire had she not blinked away immediately after.

When his blood eventually pooled on the stones of the temple, she was nearly deafened by the cries of victory.

Maiev left out the words Illidan spoken before his death, feeling it unnecessary. Naisha felt awful enough about her ‘abandoning’ her already and neither did she speak of the tears she shed throughout the battle.

She hadn’t noticed it herself at the time, only after he fell did she realize how wet her cheeks were. Her throat had been sore with all the snarling and yelling she had done, repeating his crimes to him during the fight so he would know _exactly_ why he deserved each wound inflicted.

So much unspent emotion, bottled up until it burned her out from within, finally given a release in that decisive battle.

          “Did anyone else…?” the question petered out and Naisha pressed her lips together in a thin line, but Maiev knew full well what she was about to ask.

          “No,” she said flatly.

          Grief flashed across Naisha’s face, belying the hope she was fostering, and she blinked rapidly, turning her head away. “Oh. I… I thought at least _one_ might have…” her tone cracked and squeezed her eyes shut. “ _Damn it!_ ” she hissed under her breath, hands curling tight in her cloak.

          Thick silence fell around them as Naisha tried to rein herself in and Maiev could do nothing but sit quietly, trying to keep her own emotions in order.

 

Pain shot through her and Maiev hissed, staggering through a shadowy crevice with a hand pressed to her bloodied flank.

          Her eyes burned and the pain in her mouth still came with a taste of blood. A broken tooth she would need to deal with at some point. She was ‘lucky’ the blow hadn’t broken her neck or jaw.

          It wasn’t an immediate concern.

          Swelling with grief and anger, her heart felt fit to burst with the weight of her situation fast settling on her shoulders.

          _‘I can pull them away, Mistress. If they find us, they’ll kill us both. You need to live.’_

          She tried.

          She _tried_ to stop Isarin from leaving but she couldn’t blink to freedom and her legs were still pinned by a dead night sabre. By the time Maiev freed herself, Isarin had already drawn Illidan’s forces away. She always was good at diversions.

          Her boots sluggishly scraped the dirt and when they finally caught on a small ridge of stone she tripped, dropping her weapon and flailing onto her injured side.

          Maiev snarled expletives and struggled onto her back, breathing heavily with sweat and blood smearing on her skin.

          It felt like lying at the bottom of a well, trapped, as she looked up at the night sky. A tear of unseemly greens against sickly yellow clouds, nearly black in hue as they rumbled over head with unholy lightning – she was trapped here and she would _die_ here.

          Thoughtlessly, Maiev screamed and slammed her fist against the ground, her eyes stinging to the point of overflow.

          They were gone.

          They were _all_ gone.

          She was alone and soon to bleed out in this Goddess forsaken place, fallen amongst the fel drenched ruins of a world only someone such as _he_ could see as a safe haven.

          If she did nothing, she was going to die.

          It would end.

          The thought gave Maiev pause. Some part of her wanted it to end, wanted the release, so she could _escape_ everything that bundled and seared in her chest. She felt hollow and full, scraped out clean with knives and shovels only to be packed full of embers that never went out, only charring everything inside her over and over again.

          She was cold and hot, peace and pain, numb and _feeling_ , and for a moment she wished more than anything that it would just _stop._

          But he would be free.

          The deaths would mean nothing, her efforts would mean nothing and he would be free to do whatever he wished.

          She closed her eyes, teeth grinding as war raged inside her.

          How much had she given already?

          All her life she dedicated herself to ideals instilled by her mother. There were other women of her childhood, all of them teaching her and her brother what was right and how to fix what was wrong, but it was her mother Maiev remembered the most.

          She was a relatively small woman who told Maiev more than once that she and her brother’s height came from their father. Mentioning him always brought a sad twinge to her expression, but questions always lead to the same gentle warning and a kiss to the brow.

          ‘ _Be wary of grief, my dear. I know it will touch your heart one night and I pray with all that I am that She guides you if I am not there to do it myself.’_

          There was no moon to be seen in the valley, clouds were constant, blocking out everything but the most unnatural light.

          It felt as if an anvil pressed her into the ground and Maiev wished for just a moment that it would swallow her up and get it over with.

          What must the Goddess think of her now? Had Elune tired of the game, of tormenting her with each fallen sister?

          “Have I paid for my ‘crime,’ Mother…?” Maiev croaked bitterly, wincing with the pain in her side.

          Of course there was no response to be had, only the howling of dry winds passing overhead. Unnatural thunder rumbled in the distance and she opened her eyes. She exhaled shakily and clenched her free hand.

Too much would be invalidated if she did nothing.

There was a wound in her side where a blade had slipped between the plates of her armour. It wasn’t enough to be immediately fatal but it would kill her in time if she allowed it.

Everything else that hurt was down to over-exertion, bruising or that damn tooth.

She wasn’t certain where she pulled the strength from, but Maiev managed to drag herself to the crevice wall and slump against it. She dug through her pouches and loosened pieces of her armour to get at the injury.

Her skin was stained darker purple thanks to the blood and she opened a vial of medical alcohol.  It took a great deal to remain quiet while rinsing it out and once she had a clearer view of it she was relieved to find it hadn’t gone any deeper than she first thought.

There was nothing left to numb the pain but there was a salve made by Saldryn she could use to help it heal faster. What little luck she had remaining made sure there was just enough material left to cover and bind the wound.

By the time she was finished she was even more exhausted than when she stumbled into the crevice and had little energy to stand. She needed to rest first.

Illidan’s forces were far behind by now. Maiev clutched at her pendant with one hand and her crescent with the other, and mercifully faded from view in the darkness of the night.

Perhaps Elune had not forsaken her entirely…

 

It wasn’t something Maiev could blame Naisha for, not when she had gone through much the same experience. She felt no inclination to question Naisha’s anger at their Goddess.

          _‘I prayed to Elune that night. When_ she _demanded we let Illidan go. I begged Elune to stop her, to see the actions of her_ chosen _and judge them as wrong. But she didn’t hear me. She didn’t hear any of us. Maybe she cared as much for us as Tyrande herself did._ ’

          Naisha admitted to drunkenly screaming on the deck of a ship, anchored not far from some sordid port Marl and his group were off finding their preferred entertainment in. Aside from a few guards playing cards below, she was on her own with her frustrations and a bottle of rum.

          The moon was full and hung over the calm waters as if nothing was wrong and Naisha recalled feeling so infuriated, so _insulted_ that Elune would appear before her in such a placid manner.

          She spat accusations of abandonment and a warped perspective of right and wrong, and in a distraught haze tried to strike the moon Herself by throwing the mostly empty bottle. It had splashed into the water a pathetically short distance out and Naisha slumped to the deck, eventually passing out as she stared at the stars.

          She wondered if their sisters had been given enough dignity and honour as to be spread across the night sky, turned into stars like any other deserving warrior. It was the only shred of comfort she could cling to, despite her conflicted feelings.

          _‘We kept their monsters underground, where they couldn’t be seen and never had to be thought about again. It feels like a mistake now. Like it made forgetting why they threw any of those degenerates to us in the first place just… too easy.’_

          Maiev had nothing in response. As far as she could see, Naisha was right.

 

The nights seemed to pass by quicker than usual as they caught up.

          Naisha had resumed whittling while in Marl’s service, needing something constructive to focus on during the quiet moments when she had nothing else to do. Her thoughts wandered too much otherwise, touching on tangled, painful things she was too afraid to unravel.

          It was something she did in the barrow as well, eventually turning into something of a tradition over the years and starting with the pendant she gave Maiev. She was wistful to see that Maiev was still wearing it and dug out a similar one hanging around her own neck. She’d never taken it off.

          Each new Watcher received their own pendant upon completing their initial training, kneeling before Maiev, Naisha and Califax as the pendant was blessed to last and placed around their neck.

          Naisha got by on selling little carvings, figurines and the like, but avoided making pendants or anything similar. Her hands would automatically make a Watcher pendant and those would never be sold. They weren’t _meant_ for anyone else.

          When asked, Maiev admitted with some degree of shame that she was unsure what to do with herself most of the time. She felt clumsy with her weapons and unfit for anything that involved combat or similar stresses. But Naisha was more understanding than Maiev allowed herself to be.

          _‘You could find something simple? I mean think about basic skills, something a civilian would do.’_

          Maiev promised she would at least try. Having Naisha around again at least made her feel as if she wasn’t seconds from drowning.

          All the Watchers picked up additional skills in the barrow, most of them practical, some of them less so.

          Salia, for all her mirth, was also a dedicated and excellent medic when needed. She had never been a priestess and had great faith in their ability to heal, but nonetheless learned just in case.

          _‘Never know when we might be in a tight spot. Plus, it’s interesting and we have a lot of books on the subject, might as well learn something useful.’_

          Maiev took to aiding Salia and anyone else who wished to learn. She was well versed in practical healing and remembered teaching the hardier sisters how to take care of their own injuries if they found themselves alone.

          Light wounds were easy enough to deal with, no great stress involved there, but serious injuries took a certain degree of nerve and strength of will to treat alone.

          One of those sisters managed to survive Tyrande’s assault by hiding in the library, killing a Sentinel to get away. She splinted her broken leg well enough that she could move to a safer location with other Watchers.

          Maiev jolted out of her reverie to the taste of bile in her throat and crossed out ‘medical work’ on the list she’d made.

          Sitting at the desk in her small home, she ran her hands through her hair and sighed deeply, trying to calm the frustration slithering in her belly.

          Fishing wasn’t an option either, if only because sea creatures and saltwater made her feel ill enough to shake. _Getting_ to Darnassus had been less than thrilling.

          Her eyes fell upon ‘cooking’ and she set her jaw tight, sighing again through her nose. The bakery she stopped at a week ago flitted through her mind and she mulled it over, frowning lightly.

          Perhaps she could share Isarin’s recipe if they would have her.

          It could be a start.

 

          “It’ll be fine,” Naisha smiled encouragingly. She had insisted on accompanying Maiev, which did not take much effort. It certainly felt grounding to have her old lieutenant at her side and Maiev found herself walking slightly taller, feeling some small shred of herself return.

          Rarely had they been apart since reuniting, finally having something familiar and enduring when so much had been lost to them, and it felt as if something small had shifted inside Maiev. Whether it was for better or worse she had yet to see.

          Their walk to the bakery was peaceful and they passed a pair of Sentinels on the way who nodded politely to them. More often if she was recognized Maiev would notice wariness or suspicion on the Sentinel’s face, something that frustrated her to no end.

          Teldrassil was due a large storm soon but the sky remained calm for now, leaves rustling and boughs swaying with a cool breeze drifting through. The people in Rut’theran would have secured their boats and retrieved the traps left in shallower waters in preparation.

          Maiev took a deep breath and tried to exhale all her concerns.

          “If nothing else, I am willing to see what comes of it.”

          Naisha glanced at her. “Even if this doesn’t work, we will find something else,” she spoke so surely that Maiev could not help but feel bolstered. She took another breath and let it out after a moment, trying to square her shoulders.

          They turned a corner and walked the last few yards to the bakery, stopping just short of it. It was a small building, now that Maiev was actually paying attention to its appearance. Last time she was too distracted by the smells and her memories.

          The main door was open, as were the shutters on the front window, allowing the smell of spice bread to carry on the air, sweet cinnamon and nutmeg. It was simplistic but appealingly so. The male sitting outside apparently cared little for flourish and it was something Maiev could appreciate.

          The man eyed them over his food, sitting on a bench under the window. His white hair was pulled into a low tail and he kept his beard cropped and neatly trimmed. He wore a plain blue vest, pants and leather boots.

          “Need something?”

          Maiev opened her mouth but mentally cursed as her breath caught in her throat like a brambles. Chills coiled in her belly and she ground her teeth, trying desperately to will them away. _What_ was she afraid of? There was nothing threatening here.

          _Say something!_ She all but yelled at herself.

          Finally swallowing the ball of thorns in her throat, Maiev’s eyes flicked towards what little she could see of the bakery interior. “Did you not have an apprentice before?”

          The male sighed heavily and took a bite out of his scone. He chewed for a few seconds and spoke after swallowing. “The boy ran off chasing stories of ‘adventure’ and other nonsense,” he grumbled, taking another bite.

          Maiev shared a glance with Naisha, who gave her an encouraging look, and returned her attention to the annoyed male. “Do you require someone to help with your work?”

          The man paused mid-bite to look at them. “Are you offering? It would make the nights easier,” he said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “You can follow directions?”

          Maiev simply nodded and Naisha raised her hand, offering an apologetic look. “I’ve my own work,” she said, shifting her weight on her staff. “Sorry.”

          The baker nodded to her and set his food down on the bench, brushing some fresh crumbs from his vest. “Well, my name’s Arllen.”

          Maiev inclined her head politely. “Maiev.”

          Arllen’s eyes narrowed and he leaned forward. “Wouldn’t happen to be Shadowsong, would you?”

          Some unease crawled through her and Maiev sighed. “Yes.”

          Arllen grunted and got to his feet, brushing off imaginary crumbs from his pants. “Never thought I’d actually see you myself, but I’m honoured,” he said.

          The words took a second to register and Maiev frowned, confused. “You are not troubled?”

          Derision crossed Arllen’s face, “why? I used to live in Nendis, I had a family there.” His voice grew harder, “far as I’m concerned, you did something no one else was willing to do. They were quite happy to just let him walk away. _You_ bought us justice with that monster’s blood. I have never been happier than when I heard about his death and I'll be frank in saying I am not happy often. So, _no_ , I'm not troubled.”

          It was so strange to hear such words and it brought something light to Maiev’s heart. She struggled to find words for a long moment, trying to process the idea that there _were_ kaldorei who appreciated her efforts.

          Arllen rubbed at his beard again, glancing back at his food. “Tell you what, I’ve nearly finished eating. You can start now if you want?” he looked back at her, his expression as gruff as his tone. There was no hostility to his eyes. He was simply a terse individual it seemed.

          Maiev finally regained some measure of clarity and nodded. “That will be fine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now I should really get to work.


	6. Moving Forward

Working at the bakery caused time to slip by faster than Maiev expected. She no longer had so much of it to sit and contemplate what path her life had taken and before she knew it a month had passed.

          It did not bother her, after all there was something to urge her away from withdrawing and Arllen was another sympathetic voice, as gruff as he was.

          There were a few nights where she was unable to show but Arllen was relatively understanding. He knew a thing or two about loss and what it could do to someone. When she _did_ show he would just ask how she slept before they got to work, never really trying to draw attention to what he was asking. Usually he would do it while fiddling with something else, readying trays or checking their supplies.

          More often than not, pride pushed Maiev to answer with a curt, ‘ _better_.’

          Arllen was not easily fooled but he refrained from pressing her boundaries and left her to her privacy.

          Still, that he asked did something to snap her thoughts into order and caused her to take note of her progress. Certainly she was doing better and with Naisha she could be open enough to talk about it if she felt herself stepping back.

          “Was it the same one?”

          The temple gardens were peaceful enough to walk through, the colder months causing the flowers to sleep and sapping the colour out of the area. Fewer people visited, usually only coming along for rites and ceremonies.

          A cold breeze passed over them and Maiev sighed, tugging her cloak tighter about herself. Some were beginning to wear thin furs to stave of the chill and she reminded herself – yet again – to buy some warmer clothing.

          Naisha’s voice was gentle, “Maiev?”

          “It was,” Maiev said abruptly, coughing. She hadn’t meant to sound that harsh. “My apologies, my mind was elsewhere,” she murmured.

          She glanced at the sky, noting the moody clouds with just the barest of breaks between them, but a grumble from Naisha took her attention. Maiev turned at the waist and quirked a brow to see Naisha had paused a few steps behind, her mouth pulled into a rigid line of frustration and strain.

          Maiev frowned. “You should rest,” it came out as a command rather than a simple statement, a fragment of her former self making her tone akin to iron. One of her Watchers was in pain; they shouldn’t be trying to move.

          Naisha looked at her as if momentarily distracted, her brows lifting by a fraction. After a few seconds she huffed out a brief chuckle and shook her head. “As you say, Mistress Shadowsong,” she said, moving to settle down against a nearby tree.

          Her amusement faded once she set her staff on the ground, slowly rubbing at what remained of her leg with both hands. Her mouth twisted the way it always had when she was swallowing a pained noise.

          Maiev’s frown deepened. Would it have made the slightest difference had she been there?

          Naisha glanced up, catching her frown, and shook her head. “It isn’t your fault, Maiev,” she murmured, looking down at her leg again. “It just hurts now and then, that’s all.”

          Logically she knew that.

          Maiev sighed and settled down next to her old lieutenant. “Do you dream of it?”

          Quiet fell over them as Naisha paused in her massaging, birds twittering from safe perches, occasionally flitting overhead. Darnassus genuinely felt peaceful for once and Maiev tried to hold onto that feeling of calm. It would wriggle free eventually but not as easily as it used to.

          Finally Naisha took a breath and tilted her head back, staring at the sky. “It was a young hydra, just old enough to venture on its own but too young to split. Would have been a lot worse if it wasn’t,” she said evenly, frowning. “But that’s what the dreams are for, making it worse than it really was. Most of the time it’s an adult and it coils around me. I feel it crushing my leg in one set of jaws while the others tear at me.”

          She shook her head and ran a hand through her hair. “It isn’t always just the one thing,” she said quietly, eyeing Maiev. “Is it?”

          A lead weight settled in Maiev’s gut and she shook her head in return. “Sometimes I return to the cage, pacing over and over. With each turn the walls seem to close in and the light fades,” she swallowed the knot of anxiety in her throat, clenching her hands. “When it finally dies, _he_ is there to greet me.”

          She forced her hands to relax and leaned on her knees, staring at the grass. “The rest of the time I dream of the tomb. The passage has collapsed behind me and I run as quickly as I can. I cannot blink, the Goddess will not hide me, and as the water rises I feel our sisters’ hands grasping at me, slowing me down.”

          Naisha’s voice was gentle with understanding. “They pull you down and try to drown you.”

          The tone made Maiev’s heart ache, knowing without question that Naisha’s dreams followed the same illogical vein of guilt her own did.

          She sighed, “we barely escaped that wretched place. I cannot help but wonder what else we might have done, if more could have been saved.” A frown furrowed her brow and Maiev shook her head, “I find myself wondering if they are wrong to try. I abandoned all of -”

          Naisha looked at her sharply, “stop.”

          Maiev paused, lifting her gaze to meet Naisha, and the once-lieutenant’s expression softened after a second. “They wouldn’t want us to do this to ourselves,” she said as firmly as she could manage. She lifted a hand to tap Maiev’s forehead gently, “all we have is this, telling us what we should have done, what we _could_ have done if we just tried hard enough. It doesn’t care how impossible any of that was.”

          She let her hand drop and looked away. “But I know they wouldn’t want this.”

          Silence enveloped them once more as Maiev digested the words, taking in a few deep breathes and exhaling them in an effort to calm herself. She knew her Watchers and allowing herself to believe they would be so malicious was a disservice.

          If anyone deserved their wrath it was Illidan and she had killed him, so her sisters _had_ to be at peace now.

          They had to be.

          Naisha perked up and patted the ground at her sides, decisively, and forced a vague smile onto her face. “I can imagine they’d find it strange here too, wouldn’t they?” she tilted her head. “This city would be so strange to the oldest ones.”

          Mild relief passed through Maiev at the change of subject and she nodded lightly, letting her gaze drift towards the temple. The pale stone could still be seen through breaks between the trees and if she paid attention she could hear singing on the wind.

          She turned her gaze elsewhere with a sour twist to her lips. “We _all_ adjusted to that life, Naisha.”

          “I know. But I feel as if the younger ones would have had an easier time, coming back to this.”

          “I am not so certain. These times are so different, we ally ourselves with people who know nothing of our folly and if they _do_ they refuse to learn from it. At least _Draenei_ have the sense to see the Legion for the threat it poses. We are so open now… it feels as if we have done nothing more than expose our bellies to the butcher’s knife.”

          “We’re used to being closed in and on our own. That isn’t a good thing, especially now.”

          “I… know, I know. It simply feels overwhelming at times.”

          A contemplative look crossed Naisha’s face and Maiev took the moment’s pause for a few calming breaths. If she thought about it too much, tried to comprehend the scale of how different things were, her head might crack like an egg.

          ‘Horde’ and ‘Alliance’ made little difference to her and to see her people ally with _infants_ who tore at the land just as readily as the Horde did made her feel ill.

          Tyrande had her own reservations, years ago. Her actions against the Watchers aside, she was not incompetent. There would be nothing left of their people after the Long Vigil if that was the case.

          She must have thought it _necessary_ to join the Alliance. Maiev could not rightly see the High Priestess doing it otherwise, if there was any other way to keep their people secure.

          Thankfully, Naisha broke her frustrated train of thought. “You know, I’m terrified of where we’ve ended up. This is _not_ where I thought we would be, never in those thousands of years did I think this would happen,” she said, her voice wavering at the end. “But,” she took a breath, steadying her tone. “ _You_ are the one who taught me how to keep pressing forward, even if it feels as if the entire world is pushing against you.”

          Naisha turned her head, catching Maiev’s gaze. “ _You_ are the reason I even reached this city and why I could keep pushing myself to move. We will move forward and whatever that brings us to is for Elune to know, I suppose. But we’ll _be there_ to see what She has in mind for us. I believe in that at least.”

 

As dawn slowly began to creep upon Teldrassil, they settled outside Maiev’s home with the fire pit burning and joint of fresh meat skewered over it. Naisha had picked it out on the way over and made a dry remark about her old sabre always having a preference for snatching thigh bones once the meat was stripped away.

          A little salt and some herb infused oil made for a pleasing taste and they took turns checking it, talking in between.

          It was becoming something of a nightly routine for them, cooking some shared food and talking about better moments instead of allowing themselves to muse about the darker memories. Any time they started to veer towards dour thoughts, one of them would manage to pull away from it, changing the subject.

          It didn’t work all the time but they were getting better at it.

          Tonight was a little different, however, in the fruit wine Naisha brought. Once a week they would indulge the stuff and it was hardly an unwelcome addition, with Maiev having the first taste of it, but neither of them had ever been particularly keen to drink.

          Plenty of the Watchers had been but it was never allowed to get out of hand, the off-duty women would just get a little loud in their singing or laughter. Though Maiev could easily recall just the _one_ incident that caused her to lay down a number of restrictions; _how_ exactly they convinced some of the dryads to imbibe was still beyond her.

          The Watchers at least saw the restrictions as reasonable once they were sober. They could always be trusted to understand…

          “Ah, do you remember the weeks after Mirasha had cubs?” Naisha chuckled, setting the mostly fully bottle down.

          Maiev smiled lightly and shook her head in amusement. It was a touch ridiculous at the time but looking back at it now she couldn’t help by find it heartening.

          “Our sisters found any reason they could to spend time with them,” she said idly, checking the meat to make sure it wasn’t burning. It would nearly be cooked enough to start slicing off pieces. She looked over her shoulder at Naisha, offering a small but warm smile, “ _you_ would have carried them around were you able.”

          Naisha slipped a hand through her air, doing her best to look innocent. “I don’t remember that,” she scoffed. “I was completely immune to their charms.”

          They both chuckled and Maiev returned her attention to their food.

          The amount of trust Mirasha displayed still made Maiev feel honoured, thinking back to the large saber who simply flicked her ears as groups of Watchers cooed and fawned over the cubs. Maiev had visited the great cat herself from time to time, gently stroking Mirasha’s ears and earning an appreciative purr from the massive feline.

          Sometimes the cubs would amble over to her and swat at her cape, play biting at her armoured hand as she tickled their soft bellies.

          At the right age, some of the cubs were picked out by the Watchers to begin personally bonding and training with them. Mirasha would gently cuff them when they misbehaved and often served as an example for them to learn from.

          Those that did not become steeds grew into loyal guardians of the barrow, stalking the tunnels to keep the spider populations manageable and scaring away overly curious persons. Califax would occasionally need to treat one of them for bites, but they otherwise remained steadfast and effective.

          Naisha sighed wistfully. “I think they _are_ up there, you know.”

          Maiev looked over her shoulder to see Naisha staring at the sky and followed her line of sight. The canopy broke above their heads in an uneven, oblong tear, showing the fading stars and a lack of clouds.

          Another sigh left her old lieutenant. “They must be.”

          Wincing slightly, Maiev took a nearby knife and began cutting off strips of cooked meat, portioning them into two bowls. “Milasri did have a beautiful voice, did she not?”

          Mercifully, a light laugh escaped Naisha. “She did! She always was best at singing for Elune,” she spoke warmly, the smile clear in her voice. She chuckled again, “Goddess, now I remember her trying to teach Taellen.”

          A relatively short-lived if noble endeavour, given how tone-deaf Taellen turned out to be, but Milasri had been such an optimist.

          The food and drink disappeared quickly as darkness bled from the sky, their tentative cheer and laughter carrying on the air like the embers of the cooking fire. Such moments had become so easy between them, soothing the aches they carried and bolstering them for the next night.

          Maiev felt it becoming easier to wake up and go to the bakery, knowing that at the end of the night she would return home and be able to speak with Naisha again. If something had troubled her during the night, Naisha would be there to listen and she returned the gesture in kind, unwaveringly. She refused to let herself fail Naisha again.

          There was an ebb and flow to it, some nights would be easier to deal with and others would bring her crashing down again. But the river did not feel so threateningly close to swallowing her and that was something Maiev allowed herself a degree of cheer for.

          By the time Naisha returned to the city proper in search of rest sunlight was beginning to shaft through Teldrassil’s boughs, and Maiev waited until her old lieutenant was out of sight before she retreated from the coming daylight herself.

          Naisha’s departure left something empty inside her but Maiev brushed it off and slipped under her bed onto the reed mat she placed there. It was thick enough to cushion the hardness of the floor.

          For once, it did not take quite so long for her to slip off.

 

The following dusk was cold enough that her breath misted into the air, vague whorls of white that coiled into a stillness broken only by the burbling stream and birds calling to each other in the canopy.

          The stars were beginning to show, slowly shining into existence where the sun retreated and the last hints of pink and orange slipped from the clouds.

          Washing and dressing herself, Maiev walked out into the cooling night with an unfamiliar sense of calm. Perhaps tonight would be easier.

          She turned to retrieve her cloak from the house only to pause upon noting a glinting shape in the corner of her eye.

          Naisha refrained from bringing it up and Maiev knew it wasn’t because Naisha hadn’t noticed it.

          Her crescent was still lodged in one of the corner beams at the front of the house and she walked over to it, staring at the handle for a few long moments.

          If she were to listen to Naisha, she would accept that weakness wasn’t what led her to this place in her life and that allowing herself to believe such a thing was a cruelty she did not deserve. So when had listening to her lieutenant steered her wrong?

          Maiev breathed deep and exhaled slowly, taking a firm grip of the handle. She pressed down on it and started to slowly wiggle the blade, shifting it out of the grooves the hooked edge had made, anchoring it when Maiev tried to pull it straight out.

          When it felt loose enough she gave a little shove beneath the blade and lifted it away from the wood.

          Affording herself a small but genuine smile, Maiev set the crescent down against the wall just inside the door and retrieved her cloak.

          At least she wouldn’t be lying when she told Arllen she slept better this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Most of the playlist I have for this story to help me write is just sad instrumentals or sad songs. But there are at least a few hopeful or happier sounding ones.


	7. Comforts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This came a little later today because there was some offline-life stuff that cropped up during the week that left me too irritable to write for about two days. I apologize if there are typos I haven't caught as a result.
> 
> Also, I don't want to be right about this, but this might be the point at which I lose people. #YOLO

Free moments found her sitting in one of Darnassus’s tea houses, talking with Naisha as weeks continued to slowly but unerringly pass.

Every time they went in she ordered the same thing, suramari starleaf. Naisha asked her if it was a nostalgic choice and she could not lie, it was, but not entirely. The taste still appealed to her beyond her happier memories, of times where she had little to nothing to worry about beyond scuffing her knees.

She was oversimplifying, of course, but the concerns she had as a child felt comparatively small. The Long Vigil was quite enough time to forget whatever pain she felt over the absence of her father, all that remained still was the love she had for her mother and the tea was a fond reminder of that strong, gentle woman.

She brewed brewed it frequently when Maiev was a child, the tea was a staple of the city it was named after. Maiev had always taken it with a little bit of honey then and she held to that preference whenever they could get a hold of the leaf in the barrow. It was no different now.

After the sundering, the leaf was in danger of extinction. A significant number of farms were lost to the churning sea and so many people were displaced by the chaos. But in the aftermath there was an almost feverish rush, people grasping for anything they could preserve, desperately reaching for the familiar, for _comforts_.

Thankfully, enough of the leaf remained that they were able  to re-establish it over time.

She remembered hearing of soldiers from Suramar who dropped their weapons after the war to become tea farmers. It was something to hold on to.

Jarod had never liked the taste.

Maiev frowned to herself, wondering where her brother had disappeared off to. She had written so many letters, keeping in touch with him, reminding him to take care of himself, asking about his well-being only for it to just suddenly stop. No more responses, no warning, no goodbye; nothing.

Goddess only knew how many times she had thought of him, wondering if he was safe, if he was even alive. When she tried to find out what happened, all she could know was that he took his belongings and disappeared into the wilderness without a word to anyone.

Not even her.

The sting of his silence wasn’t one she could remove easily, even now.

 

“Are you sure?”

Maiev frowned, trying to ignore the question. She needed to concentrate, figure out what was worth taking with her. Some of her possessions were not needed, not where she was going. She would no longer be a priestess after all and she would be embracing her martial training in full.

Not that there was much left to sort through. Their home and everything in it was now on the bottom of the ocean. She could still hear that horrifying explosion as the world rent upon itself.

Ever since he first heard of her decision, Jarod insisted on second-guessing her and it was wearing on her nerves. They were raw enough without his pestering.

“Maiev!”

“Is it so difficult to grasp?” she snapped, looking back at him.

Jarod closed his mouth like a scolded child, standing in the doorway to her makeshift room with a hand pressed against his flank. His posture still bent with the pain of broken ribs and the line of her mouth tightened.

She huffed out a tense breath and returned her attention to her belongings. “You should be resting,” she said tersely, anger simmering in her blood. “ _He_ should have been executed,” she muttered.

A sigh escaped Jarod. “It’s going to be an eternity.”

“I know.”

“We’re becoming immortal, you’ll be down there forever.”

“I know.”

“You would throw your life away like this?! What would mother say? She wouldn’t want this!”

Pain lanced through her chest and Maiev clenched her hands, forcibly relaxing them. She turned to face her brother, meeting his frown with a hard glare. “ _You_ did not care what mother wanted when you joined the guard,” she said icily. “You _dare_ to use her against me now when it suits you?”

Jarod opened his mouth to retort but whatever words he wanted to spout caught in his throat. He turned his gaze to the floor after a few seconds and ran a hand through his hair, frown deepening. “Why does it have to be _you_ …?”

He couldn’t let it go. Ever since she volunteered before Shan’do Stormrage, Jarod protested, going so far as to claim she was running away from her duties. _She_ was running away from her duties? When _he_ was the one who needed to be all but shoved to lead their people to victory? When _he_ was the one who would rather shrink away and ignore a greater opportunity to serve?

The insult did nothing to endear Maiev to his pleas.

She rubbed at her brow, trying to soothe her nerves. “Our world has changed, Jarod. The Sisterhood is changing, our people are changing. Azshara is gone and Goddess knows what the remaining ‘nobility’ plan to do. I am not suited for rebuilding. Overseeing his imprisonment makes the most sense to me.”

Jarod lifted his gaze, resignation souring his expression. “You’re locking yourself away just the same.”

Annoyance mounted in her and Maiev resisted the urge to growl at him for being a child about it. “Do you think I would be so cruel as to never speak with you again?”

The flash of uncertainty on his face told her exactly how her brother thought of her and Maiev hid the spike of hurt she felt. Did she truly come across so detached? It chipped at her foundations and she felt a knot form in her throat.

Muttering about silly little brothers, Maiev stepped forward and grabbed Jarod by his vest as gently as she could, hugging him. They were about the same height, though Jarod could never quite stop trying to straighten his posture in a futile effort to appear slightly bigger than her.

He seemed surprised for a second and carefully slipped his free arm around her. “There won’t be anyone left after you leave,” he mumbled into her shoulder.

Maiev squeezed her eyes shut.

A sudden death by the sea wasn’t Suramar’s fate. It wasn’t given that _mercy_ like Hajiri or Zin-Azshari. Before the oceans swallowed it, the Legion and their vile nathrezim closed their talons around it, shrouding the city in a choking fog. A few managed to escape, reporting terrible, twisted magic used to kill and corrupt. The stories of undead shambling through streets she once ran through as a child were enough to make her sick.

Jarod told her of a nightmare he kept having about their mother becoming one of those unnatural monstrosities. She couldn’t muster the energy at the time to tell him she was suffering the same, only drawing him into a hug and allowing him to cry on her shoulder until the new night blanketed them.

A mercifully quiet moment between battles she had feared would never end.

She was the older sibling, meant to protect and support and she had done that as much as she was able. It didn’t feel like running away from her duties, she was embracing new ones and choosing something that felt best for her. She already spent enough of her time trying to push her brother to be the best he could be and time after time he had shown how much he simply didn’t want anything to do with it.

Now that she was deciding to leave him to his own choices and do something for herself, he protested.

Keeping Illidan locked away was noble, it was important and needed and she felt she would be secure in such a place.

Maiev swallowed the lump in her throat and pulled away, gently patting Jarod’s shoulder. “I will write to you. I will not leave you alone with yourself.”

He looked at her, still sullen, and nodded.

Maiev offered him a strained smile. “Please, go lie down. You need to rest.”

 

“Is that the last of it?” Arllen grunted, heaving another sack of flour into the pantry.

“The cart is empty,” Maiev said, glancing out the window at it. She pressed a hand to her right shoulder and rolled it back slowly, feeling a light twinge in the muscles there. They had been moving new supplies for the last hour or so.

Arllen closed the door and latched it shut, quick to wipe any excess off on his pant legs. By the end of the night he was covered in the stuff, but he would always be neat and clean again by the following dusk.

With one last look around, they locked the bakery up and parted ways with the stars beginning to fade above them.

Arllen didn’t have a home attached to the bakery. At the end of the night he returned to a communal house on the edge of the city. He didn’t like the silence of living alone, all it did was remind him that his family as gone. _‘Those people aren’t my family and I won’t be insulting their memory by pretending they can be replaced. But it isn’t about replacing. It’s about finding how to cope with it when life takes from you. We all need ways to cope.’_

His words struck a cord, giving her something to think about as she walked home.

By the time she was walking the thinner streets on the edge of Darnassus - where the difference between trees and buildings became increasingly indistinct - she was almost too engrossed in her thoughts to take notice. But her instincts were sharp enough to cut through the fog for once.

It wasn’t important at first, just someone crossing her line of sight at the end of the path, another kaldorei by the look of it. However, they were soon followed by a wiry figure.

Something coiled uneasily within her and Maiev narrowed her eyes as the figure moved out of sight.

Stepping silently she hurried up to the intersection of paths and glanced around until she saw the figure again, still following the other elf. Their stature and the ears suggested a male kaldorei and he wore light looking leathers that kept him relatively quiet on his feet. A hood was pulled over his head, with a light layer of fur wrapped around his shoulders and down his back, keeping him somewhat warm.

He was carrying himself the way _she_ would if she were trying to stalk up behind someone.

Her eyes flicked to the civilian ahead. They were carrying a satchel, heavy enough for them to keep a hold of the strap and shift it mid-step as it started to strain on their shoulder again.

The male picked up his pace and started to move closer, producing a short club from his belt.

Maiev darted in an instant, focusing as quickly as she could. “Look out!”

Just in time, the civilian flinched and turned around to see their attacker take a swing. The club cracked against their arm instead of their head and they screamed, kicking out against the male.

Maiev blinked the distance and slammed into the would-be thief, heart pounding. His elbow came back and shunted the air from her chest, feet shifting as he tried to get away from her. Maiev snared her fingers into his hood for purchase and shoved her knee into his side.

The male grunted, body curling around the hit, and renewed his efforts to escape. He only managed to face her for his efforts; she refused to give him room to manoeuvre properly.

He tried to swing the club into her ribs and Maiev stepped into his space, slamming her forehead into his nose with the same motion. It crunched and the thief cursed profusely, staggering back with blood trickling down his face.

Taking advantage of his distraction, Maiev managed to grab his wrist and twist the club out of his grasp. She slipped an arm under his and found a decent hold in his leathers, but the male was stubborn and sent a short punch right at her face. Pain flashed across the left side of her mouth with a taste of blood.

He hadn’t done enough, not even close, and she still had a hold of him.

Maiev shifted her weight, foot bracing against the ground behind him and twisted sharply, getting him off his feet. The air rushed from his lungs in a painful wheeze as his back connected to the ground and he paused, seemingly winded from the throw.

Blood pounding in her ears, Maiev glanced quickly at the civilian only to find they were gone. She cursed under her breath and started searching for something to bind the thief’s wrists with.

“There!”

Her head snapped up again, spotting the civilian hurrying towards her with two Sentinels following.

Grunting, Maiev pulled the thief to his feet by the back of his leathers – ignoring his complaints about ribs – and unceremoniously shoved him towards the Sentinels. He coughed and staggered, sinking to his knees before them.

She opened her mouth to speak and pain stung her lips where the flesh had split on the left side. Maiev lifted her hand to her lips, scowling as her fingertips came away a darker shade of purple. Her eyes flicked to the thief, noting that his gloves had little pieces of metal guarding the knuckles. No wonder that hurt more than she expected.

The Sentinels gave her thanks and began to get the male on his feet.

Maiev’s scowl deepened but she held her tongue and turned away, intent on returning home now that the thief seemed dealt with.

They shouldn’t be thanking her. They should have been there in the first place.

 

Naisha was more than just a little concerned when she finally arrived, insisting on taking care of the cut until Maiev relented. It seemed to bother Naisha more than she wanted to say out loud, her brow furrowed with absolute concentration as she cleaned the relatively minor injury.

“Did they at least thank you?”

Maiev sighed through her nose and made an affirmative noise, watching Naisha’s eyes narrow and the way her lips set in a straight line like someone with a mouth full of salt.

The fire crackled lazily near them, embers darting into the air and fish wrapped in simple herbs slowly baking while Naisha worked.

Much as she protested at first, feeling it unnecessary, Maiev found herself relaxing at the attention. Naisha was gentle and her hands were warm, if not soft. Working with wood as much as she did caused callouses but Maiev did not mind that. She closed her eyes and allowed Naisha to tilt her head, simply allowing the huntress to do as she wished until she was satisfied.

Naisha’s palm was warm against her jaw when she finally spoke again. “There,” she murmured. “Should be fine now.”

Maiev opened her eyes, noting the mildly troubled look on Naisha’s face. She was close enough that Maiev felt a scattering of breath against her skin and she quirked a brow. “Naisha?”

That seemed to snap Naisha out of her thoughts. She blinked and pulled her hand away, warmth rapidly fading in its absence. “Sorry,” she said quickly. Another pregnant moment slipped by and she turned her head away from Maiev, watching the fire. “The fish should be done.”

The chill settling into her skin tugged at her insides and Maiev tried not to frown with the confusion and indignation that swiftly followed coiling through her. She disliked the chill. Despite the small stings of pain that accompanied it, she had enjoyed Naisha’s touch. She had been so careful, as if Maiev was something precious she simply could not risk breaking.

Maiev huffed out a tired breath and got to her feet, checking on their meal.

It was a childish want, she told herself, trying to be sure of it. She may as well wrap herself in a blanket and _mewl_ for her mother to come and pat her on the head.

She actually wouldn’t mind that…

Maiev squashed a swell of irritation. Pining for childish things did nothing for her.

They ate their shared meal in a strange silence, as if the air thickened and wrapped around them in a bubble, threatening to burst loudly at any moment.

There was no wine this time to mellow out their nerves and Maiev promptly dealt with whatever was left over, washing her hands in the nearby stream. She returned to the fire with tension wound tight in her belly and remained standing until Naisha looked up at her in question.

Maiev frowned, fidgeting with the material of her pants and looking at the fire.  To think she was more or less done with embarrassment only to be struck with further humiliation. What had she done to deserve this?

Mercifully, Naisha broke the silence. “You know you can tell me what’s wrong,” she said gently.

Maiev looked at her, feeling like a caught rabbit. She swallowed thickly and tried to pick her words as best she could. “I know, I…” she sighed and she shoulders went slack. It deserved to be pushed aside, brushed off, but it was hard to tell if it was truly what she thought or what her guilt wanted from her.

The touch was a kindness, no? She had to keep wrestling with the idea that she was allowed such, something she was becoming better at, albeit slowly, in pieces.

Sighing again with some finality, Maiev returned to her spot next to Naisha and settled down, staring at the fire. “I found your touch comforting,” she said, trying to sound neutral and only managing to sound uncomfortable for her effort. “You know I do not like indulging in frivolous things, but I feel as if my judgement is impaired in this instance.” She turned her head, managing to meet Naisha’s gaze. “I do not want to ask this absurdity of you.”

          Naisha was quiet for long enough that a ball of ice began to form in Maiev’s stomach, but the huntress chuckled quietly and shook her head. Maiev frowned in confusion, watching Naisha shift over to her so they were facing each other. “It isn’t frivolous. Let me have your hands?”

          Maiev wasn’t sure how to react, failing in her search for words and numbly offered her hands, just watching her old lieutenant. As gentle as before, Naisha took hold of them and carefully started to trace whatever lines she found. Most of them were old scars or natural creases in the palm; others were imaginary, swirling. The lines travelled up her arm and Maiev relaxed slowly, watching Naisha’s hand carefully slide against her forearm, always warm, all the way up to her shoulder when she showed no signs of protest.

          She turned her head towards the exploring hand, sighing quietly as Naisha pressed a palm to her jaw again. The huntress smiled contently. “It isn’t absurd,” she murmured.”

          The words wouldn’t come to her and Maiev mumbled something that vaguely sounded like agreement. It didn’t become any easier when Naisha deigned it necessary to slip her hands through Maiev’s hair, brushing it behind her ears. She may as well have become a nightsaber at that point, relaxing into the touch and causing Naisha to laugh softly, bowing her head to Maiev’s.

          She felt perplexingly vulnerable and safe in equal measure, and lifted her hands to Naisha’s arms, gently holding the other woman to her. The warmth was too great to let slip away just yet.

          Only half-open, her eyes flicked to Naisha’s arm, just next to her temple with those ever careful hands buried in her hair.

          It took a second for what she was looking at to register and her stomach slowly twisted on itself.

          Usually, Naisha’s sleeves went to her wrists and were loosely secured by the style of her shirt. But they had been pushed up just enough by Naisha’s movements to expose some of her skin and the array of short, scar lines scattered there. Naisha had never been a heavily scarred person, Tyrande's attack aside she was usually took quick to be struck, especially when riding her nightsaber.

          A low rumbling noise, not unlike one a protective saber would make, escaped Maiev. She pressed herself loser to Naisha and her arms slipped around her old lieutenant’s waist, hugging her.

          Naisha’s chin brushed the top of her head. “Maiev?”

          She frowned, closing her eyes with her brow buried against Naisha’s shoulder. “Should you still be whittling?”

          Naisha was silent and her head turned slightly as if checking her arm. She knew Maiev had seen them. “I…” she paused, her arms tightening around Maiev’s head, though certainly not enough to be uncomfortable.

          Maiev waited, feeling it unnecessary to pressure the other woman into answering her. Fire burned inside her with worry and care, but she refused to let the anger seep into her posture or her speech. She knew why and she mentally added it to the list of indignities her Watchers suffered from everything that came after that horrible night.

          Finally, Naisha took a breath and her voice came out quieter than Maiev had ever heard her. “I have a box of pendants meant for them, new ones,” she whispered. “Every time it comes back to me, I make one, so I remember them the way I should. They wouldn’t want me to do that to myself. They would stop me just as they would stop _you_ from blaming yourself for what happened to us.”

          She curled a little closer. “It works so far. I haven’t done anything for months now.”

          Maiev remained where she was, arms curled around Naisha as if to protect her from everything that would dare threaten her again. “Will you tell me if it stops working?”

          Naisha slowly stroked her hand through Maiev’s hair, her voice firmer with the clearing of her throat. “I will, I promise.”


	8. Connections

Shadows clung to the walls like the moss and hanging seaweed, dark tendrils that hung down from the dripping ceiling, clinging when they shouldn’t, moving when they shouldn’t.

Maiev moved forward, salt water sloshing around her knees. A brackish tang was thick on the air and stung at her eyes, putting a nauseating sensation at the back of her tongue. It came with the scent of death, of bodies she couldn’t see in the water. It was too dark.

The walls pressed in more than she remembered. The temple was ancient but even the blast and being submerged had yet to destroy it completely.

Until _he_ came here.

The faintest of singing carried to her, ghosts of sermons, of chanting, the voices of women devoted to Elune. They used to approach her with warm smiles and gentle pats on the head, cooing over a little child who was too shy and preferred hiding behind her mother’s skirts.

She became better as she grew older. The temple became a place of solace and she found herself going there more often. She couldn’t remember the names of those women who taught her how to sing for the Goddess, as soon as she reached for them they were pulled from her mind as if by a current.

Just as she would be if she failed to keep moving.

Something shifted in the water behind her.

Maiev looked over her shoulder, still moving forward, and saw nothing of note. Uneasiness oozed into her and she tightened her hold on her crescent, quickening her pace. Swallowing made her gag on the salt in the air and she coughed, staggering somewhat.

The water was above her knees, slowly swelling, churning with a threatening burble, a distant crash of waves that couldn’t reach her, of splashing founts that poured in from broken walls.

She had to get out.

The walls seemed to press in further and she eyed them, cold prickling skating across the nape of her neck.

Something tried to grasp her foot.

She yelped despite herself and broke into a run as best she could. Her cape was dragging, slowing her in the water that swirled around her thighs, and she reached for her mantle, trying to unlatch it as quickly as she could.

_“You don’t get to leave us!”_

Ice lined Maiev’s throat and she clenched her teeth, searching desperately for outside light, something that pointed to escape.  But there was nothing, only more salt and seaweed, more bricks lined with the scars of their mistakes and bloodstains old and new alike.

More hands joined the first, ghosting at her form, threatening to claw, trying to grab her cape or legs. She yelled in frustration, begging for Elune to hear her but the Goddess refused her, _ignored_ her. Elune would not shield her, would not _hide_ her and she could not blink to safety. She was abandoned to her fate.

_“How could you?!”_

Her eyes stung with tears and she tried to push away from the hands, even as their briny fingers caught on her armour, snarled at her for purchase. She couldn’t attack them, not after what she had done to them already. How could she bring herself to do such a thing? How could she have just _left_ them to begin with? They were her sisters. They deserved more than she gave them, more than she was capable of giving them, and doubt sank into her like a knife to the spine.

Her ankle was hooked out from under her with a hard yank and she tipped forward, crashing into the sea water face first. It burned her eyes and shot up her nose, forcing her to sputter and cough, bubbles bursting from her lips. She sank easily and struggled, pulling against the hands tugging her down, further than should have been possible.

Dark figures swam in the water around her, some serpentine, some not. The latter’s eyes glowed white in the murk and one of their hands shot through the darkness, wrapping around her throat as they loomed over her.

Their face became clear enough for her to struggle anew, as Taellen glared down at her with a mouth full of serpent’s teeth.

_“You killed us!”_

 

Maiev sputtered awake, nearly slamming her head into the bed frame.

          She reached for her throat, rubbing at it to dismiss the constricting feeling, the _pressure_ of Taellen’s palm against it.

          It took her longer than she liked to reassert where she was, clammy and shaking as she crawled out from under her bed and tried to shove the dream from her mind.

          Goddess, _why_?

          Perhaps the last few weeks had been too kind after all. She should have expected something to come along eventually, clawing at her once more to remind her she wasn’t free just yet.

          Leaning over her wash basin, Maiev tried to pick through the last few nights and decipher what sparked this swathe of renewed torment. One would think there was something tangible, if logic were to be used, but there was nothing that stood out to her as obvious.

          A heavy stone of an idea settled in her gut like a cold weight, that such dreams coming back to her without warning now and then may just be something she would have to live with.

          The cry of an owl jolted her and she hissed, raking a hand through her hair. The sun had long since set, she was late.

          She put the basin to use and dressed herself, determined to carry on with the night as usual rather than cower away inside. She had already done that last night and her pride would not permit it again.

          Mercifully, she managed to avoid further discomfort and got to the bakery in one piece, blocking out distractions on her way through the city.

          Arllen noticed how quiet she was but didn’t press, simply getting on with their work as normal. He asked his question about her sleep, she answered as usual, he let it rest.

          Irritability plagued her throughout the night and work could not end soon enough. She snapped once or twice at simple things without meaning to, earning little more than a grunt and a sideways glance from Arllen. It felt as if barbs had burrowed under her skin, pricking at just the wrong moment to make everything seem more frustrating than it really was.

          As the night began to wind down, Arllen encouraged her to leave early.

          _‘It was a slow night, I can finish up myself. Don’t you have that lieutenant of yours to see?_ ’

          The reminder stopped her from turning his offer down. She tried to apologize, but Arllen waved her off, idly scratching at his beard and paying more attention to their supply list. ‘ _I’d say if there was a problem. Go relax.’_

          Relieved and somewhat humbled, she thanked him for his continued understanding and left quickly.

 

Of course, Naisha was just as adept as Arllen at knowing when something was wrong, even more so in fact. But that was no surprise.

          _‘You look like you’re carrying too much.’_

          They went to the same tea house they usually did before dinner, owned by a kaldorei woman by the name of Talisiri. She had a kind and calming presence, which made her establishment appealing when Maiev felt her nerves growing raw again.

          “I feel as if I am falling into myself,” Maiev muttered, rubbing at her eyes tiredly. She sighed and let her hands drop to nestle around her cup of starleaf, steam rising from the pale golden liquid and carrying with it a hint of honey.

          The house burbled gently around them with conversation, pleasantly subdued in nature, and with the soft glow of moonstone lanterns adding to the warm atmosphere. The smell of teas and food drifted around, escaping into the chilly night through one of the few open windows.

          Maiev tapped her fingers against the cup and her mouth pressed into a thin line.

          Settled across from her at their small table, Naisha ran a hand through her hair and gave a thoughtful hum. “Do you still sleep in the same place?” she asked neutrally, trying not to draw attention to it.

          A sliver of shame wormed into her and Maiev winced, sighing through her nose. “Yes.”

          The lull that followed was uncomfortable and Maiev rubbed at the back of her neck, trying to urge her discomfort away and internally cursing when it refused to leave her in peace.

          When the silence dragged she looked directly at Naisha and frowned lightly in frustration. The huntress appeared at a loss, chewing her lip in thought with her brow furrowed deeply.

          Maiev muttered under her breath. She bowed her head and linked her hands behind her neck, elbows resting on the table. “I can still feel it prickling across my back and neck when I sleep _normally_. I know I will wake to his cruelties, because I allowed my guard to drop,” she said bitterly. “I allowed myself to think I could rest.”

          It never mattered how or when she slept, he would always find a way to make her feel vulnerable and on edge. There was never anything to hide under and at points his torments would become so perfectly timed that she would start to hallucinate from the sleep deprivation.

          Those were not moments she ever wanted to revisit.

          She let go of her neck and lifted her gaze back to Naisha. “Being under there does not keep it at bay completely,” she sighed, feeling as exhausted as she probably looked. “But enough to have peace for a while. It would seem I simply reached the end of this ‘while’ for now.”

          Another pause as Naisha’s frown deepened and Maiev just sighed softly to herself, picking up her tea to drink.

          Naisha tilted her head. “What if I stayed with you?”

          Maiev blinked, pausing with the cup half-way to her lips, and eyed Naisha, remaining silent until she elaborated. “I mean, if I was there while you slept it would make you feel safer, right? You wouldn’t feel as exposed,” she said, leaning on the table with her hands in a steeple. “What if I was there to guard you?”

          It took Maiev longer than she liked to process the idea, letting it filter through her thoughts like silt. Indeed, what if someone was there to act like a shield to her fears? If she trusted anyone with such a thing, it would be a Naisha, though her pride bristled at the idea.

          Swallowing whatever indignation and shame wanted to show itself, she hunched her shoulders. “I should remind you my bed is rather small,” she half-mumbled, staring down at her tea. She felt like a child again and she detested this constant conflict inside herself, trying to tell her she shouldn’t need any of this ‘coddling’ when she had already been through so much and survived it.

          But that was the core of it, was it not? Surviving something did not automatically mean ‘unscathed.’

          She barely escaped with her life from the Tomb of Sargeras, bleeding and exhausted, pushing herself forward by sheer force of will. Saldryn was the only reason she managed to live beyond the first hours, using her nature magic to support Maiev as they kept Illidan’s forces at bay. There had been no time to rest, no period of respite. No time to mourn.

          It was just one moment from her long life, just one, but enough to make a point to herself.

          Maiev cleared her throat, aware she had allowed a lull to form between them. “I am willing to try,” she said firmly.

          An encouraging smile turned Naisha’s lips and Maiev couldn’t help but return it, albeit in a lesser capacity. She was better off accepting Naisha’s support in the long run, stifling herself would not help. She needed to keep moving and Naisha was more than willing to see her through it, so there should be no shame in it.

          They continued to talk as they finished their drinks and Maiev asked after Naisha’s time at the market. Owls always seemed to grow in popularity during the winter and Naisha made note of that, creating all sorts of little owl figurines in different poses during the months approaching it. She always made sure the details were just right and would work until her hands were sore, but it was worth it in the end, especially if it was a child who picked up her creations. They were usually enthralled by them.

          Eventually they left the warmth and walked back to Maiev’s home, their breaths misting in the chilly night air. The sky was beginning to brighten, slowly but surely.

          Dinner dragged on longer than she meant it to, from starting the fire, to actually cooking their food and eating it, Maiev was slowed by the nerves coiling in her belly. Tension wound through her despite herself, despite her insistence that she _needed_ to let Naisha help her.

          Naisha, for her part, remained relaxed, as if the night was like any other. Maiev tried to find solace in that demeanour, her nerves calming somewhat when Naisha sent her a smile from across the fire.

          Orange and gold were touching the horizon by the time they retreated indoors.

          “Have you tried to sleep there before?” Naisha asked, gesturing loosely to the bed. She set her staff against the desk and pressed her hand to the wall for support.

          Maiev stood at the other side of her small home with arms crossed, leaning against her chest of drawers. “A few times, but I tossed and turned too much. I could never feel secure enough to settle.”

          Naisha turned to face her, smiling sympathetically. “When I was travelling I always tried to find trees to sleep in, somewhere elevated at least.” She shrugged awkwardly, trying to keep her smile. “Even if it was difficult to get up there, it felt like the ground would swallow me otherwise, just like the tomb did everyone else.”

          She moved to the cot, sheets and furs already pulled back, and sat down on the edge. “The Barrens were the worst. All that flat, _empty_ space and pig men taking up the hills and rocky areas,” she sighed, sending Maiev a dry smile. “The orcs didn’t make it any easier.”

          Silence hung between them for a long moment and Naisha looked away, rubbing her hands as if to return warmth.

          Exhaustion plucked at every inch of her body and Maiev huffed out a tired breath, slowly running her hands through her hair to the back of her neck and linking them together. “I loathe this,” she muttered. “I loathe feeling like this, Naisha. He is _dead_ , I killed him. I should not still be afraid of him.”

          Naisha was quick in her response. “Do you think you’ve failed?”

          Maiev looked at her, hands loosening somewhat, but the words would not leap to her lips as quickly as she liked. She closed her mouth with a frown and it was all the answer Naisha needed.

          “You never failed us,” she said gently, a sad look crossing her face. “We all did our jobs, Maiev. We served because we believed in the laws of our Goddess and we believed in _you_.” Her brow pinched with sympathy and she held out her hand. “You didn’t fail. You _aren’t_ failing.”

          It was hard to swallow, with the burn of guilt and perceived shortcomings swelling in her throat. She had been here before, had she not? And how many times? How many times would she need reminding of such a simple concept, that she was not guilty, she was not a _failure_ for what was done to the Watchers? For what was done to her?

          It would pass. It would pass as most everything seemed to and it would fade into memory. She could at least feel certain in that, looking at Naisha’s earnest expression.

          Taking a deep breath, Maiev pushed away from the drawers and took Naisha’s hand, sitting on the edge next to her. “There is no one else I would trust in this,” she murmured, peering down at Naisha’s hand in her own. She ghosted the knuckles with her free hand and breathed deeply once more, smoothing out the knot of tension in her gut.

          With sunlight slowly creeping through Teldrassil’s boughs they finally settled into the cot. It took very little time to become comfortable, with Naisha curled to her back, but the _ease_ with which it happened once they stopped moving all but startled her.

          Naisha had an arm draped around her waist, gently hugging her, and it failed to feel awkward despite Naisha’s smaller stature. The warmth came easily enough and Maiev relaxed, listening to Naisha’s breathing as it slowly became calmer, deeper.

          It wasn’t long before she followed suit and drifted into slumber.

 

She eased into wakefulness, unfamiliar in its hassle, with a vague scattering of breath puffing against her shoulder in intervals.

          Maiev blinked slowly, mind still fogged by sleep, and noted how dim things were. Night had embraced them once more and she had not stirred once during the day, remaining asleep the entire time.

          At some point Naisha’s arm had tightened around her waist. It wasn’t an unwelcome feeling and tied into something she had trouble placing for longer than should have been necessary.

          Safety.

          For once she felt truly safe upon waking and she did not wish to move, not because she had not the energy nor the desire to walk out of her home and _live_ but because this feeling was one she wanted to cherish. She wanted to cling to the moment for as long as she could.

          A sleepy, grumbling noise escaped Naisha and the huntress shifted behind her, lazily stretching her left leg somewhat.

          “Maiev?” she murmured groggily.

          “I am awake.”

          Naisha hummed, loosening her arm a little for which Maiev frowned to herself. “Did you sleep?” Naisha asked, her voice remaining gentle and quiet as if speaking louder would break something.

          The question took a short while to register and Maiev closed her eyes, letting her hand drop to Naisha’s arm. She held it against her and Naisha shifted, hugging Maiev as tightly as she had before without a second’s hesitation.

          She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Better than I have in months.”

          A thrill rippled through her at the warm little chuckle that escaped Naisha, prompting her to smile. It only widened when Naisha bowed her head to Maiev’s shoulder. “I hoped you would. I was worried, you looked exhausted.” She tightened her arm briefly in a squeeze and lifted her head. “I’m glad…”

          The conversation lulled into nothing yet there was no tension, no awkwardness to make Maiev’s stomach coil on itself like a defensive snake. There was too much trust for that now and her lips curved in another smile as Naisha simply returned to nuzzling her shoulder.

          How long they spent there she wasn’t quite sure, they were content to stay in each other’s warmth, but with the nightlife of the forest beginning to call to each other she reasoned it was time to get up.

          Reluctance slowed them as they disentangled and almost immediately she missed Naisha’s frame, biting her tongue to avoid an unseemly noise escaping her like a sullen child. Instead she passed Naisha her staff and they went about preparing for the night, washing, dressing and eating their fill of hazelnut bread and peach preserve.

          They walked into Darnssus side by side, Elune hanging in a star strewn sky utterly devoid of clouds. Messenger owls swooped overhead in silence, the only evidence of their existence being their shadows that passed like racing wisps.

          The city was in the middle of waking, just as they had, and the burble of life grew around them as they walked. Yet they felt no need to fill the lulls in between.

          Arllen was already at the bakery and they came to a stop outside, gouts of steam escaping the chimney to tell of his early work.

          Maiev ran a hand through her hair. Naisha would be off to the market to see to her figurines now, she-

          The hug took her by surprise and Maiev felt her entire being pause, momentarily at a loss, before she wrapped her arms around Naisha’s shoulders and head. Naisha’s arms curled under hers, free hand pressing to Maiev’s shoulder while the other clutched her staff.

          It wasn’t something that made her balk, Maiev realized, absently stroking a hand through Naisha’s hair and listening to her whisper well wishes for the night, that there was little left between them that still felt platonic. Rather the thought made something click into place, as if it belonged there, had _always_ been there.

          Naisha pulled away and smiled warmly at her. “Same place after work? I heard they’d be doing a stew with the boar they were getting in.”

          Maiev nodded, returning the expression in full. “Of course.”


	9. Hope

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, it's been three years since I did a multiple chapter fanfic and I have to say I am quite pleased this is the one I did to break that dry spell.

That they were able to eat fish again was a sign of improvement, no longer doubling over with nausea at the smell of it. Not a complete improvement, as salt water still provoked a negative response, but they could certainly revel in victories as they came.

          Talisiri’s fish stew was the perfect thing for a chilly night, thick and packed with root vegetables, so they settled at the same table as always, drinking the same drinks and chatting calmly between mouthfuls of warm food.

          The chill on the air was biting, seething through Teldrassil on winds that spoke of another storm. They had yet to see snow, but rain was becoming a frequent visitor. Maiev didn’t mind it as much anymore. Thunder and lightning still jolted her and made her uneasy but not enough to send her scurrying.

          It wasn’t gone, the dragging feeling, the undue weight in her bones. There was still a ways to go, but she felt out of the river for once and now she was shivering on the bank, trying to get warm. Maybe she would slip in the mud and fall in again, but she knew it _was_ possible to crawl her way out now.

          Who she had to thank for that wasn’t in question.

          Naisha’s presence had calmed her sleep immensely over the last few days. The huntress had been right about feeling exposed and when Naisha was there she felt protected. It unwound the knot of stress in her belly, like a lump of ice making her feel numb from the inside out, and replaced it with a feeling of assurance she was unaccustomed to. It was tentative but she knew the longer it remained the stronger it would become. She _would_ be herself again.

          Anxiety flickered through Maiev at the thought of Naisha eventually returning to her room at the inn. There were no signs pointing to such a possibility and Maiev cursed her nerves for working against her regardless of logic.

          “Naisha,” she said slowly, picking her words. “I would never want to put you in an awkward position, but would you-”

          “Stay?” Naisha was abrupt, more so than she seemed to intend as she immediately winced and rubbed her neck.

          Maiev couldn’t help the mild surprise on her face and a smile tugged at her lips. How had she gone even a moment without Naisha at her side?

          Shyness bubbled up in her throat and she cleared it away, looking down at her tea. “This has been on your mind as well?” she asked with as neutral a voice as she could manage.

          Naisha sounded anxious. “I was actually trying to find the words myself, I wasn’t sure if you’d want me to,” she said, pausing long enough that Maiev looked at her. She hunched her shoulders and offered a sheepish smile. “It’s… soothing, right?”

          ‘Soothing’ felt too weak a word to describe it, but Maiev canted her head in agreement and picked up her tea to nurse between her palms. “We have _both_ been sleeping better.”

          That seemed to calm Naisha’s nerves and she chuckled warmly, shrugging. “What can I say? You’re very cuddly, it’s easy to relax.”

          Mild heat crossed her face and Maiev shook her head in amusement. She had to admit it was quite comfortable having the warmth of another body nearby and she would be remiss if she only attributed that to the weather.

          She left the conversation where it fell and sipped her tea, enjoying the light hearted moment for what it was. They deserved to savour such things after all.

 

Once they were under the same roof it was easy to fall into a routine, as if the motions had been waiting for them since the moment they stepped out of the Barrow in force.

Habits learned over thousands of years were not easily forgotten or shaken and Maiev was amused to find Naisha had changed comparatively little.  When she rose from bed she still stretched her arms over her head, hands linked and palms turned towards the stars. She would roll her neck and work any wayward kinks out of it if necessary, and after that she would head to an open space. The loss of her leg did little to impede her, as she went through her dusk exercises unperturbed.

Living together did show Maiev how often it ached, however, and she helped to ease the pain whenever she could. Working with bread the last couple of months had apparently made her better at working soreness out of stubborn muscles, something Naisha greatly appreciated.

When their troubles caught up to them, they dealt with it quicker. The closeness made moving beyond it a less daunting prospect, grounding each other after terrible dreams or memories and making sure to get the other moving if the night was too heavy a burden to carry on their own.

The change was already apparent in both of them. Naisha smiled more often, with a familiar gleam in her eyes that made Maiev feel as if they could face down any challenge, and it had been far too long since she had felt _that._

Maiev noticed herself walking taller as of late, as if it was second nature and not something she had to remind herself to do. Because of it, Naisha would sometimes call her ‘Mistress Shadowsong’ and Maiev could not rightly tell if her old lieutenant was joking or not. The playful smile didn’t help her in that regard.

Frost was starting to crunch under their boots each night they walked into the city, the strength to carry on with their work and get through the hours becoming less and less noteworthy over time.

Maiev finally got around to sharing Isarin’s recipe with Arllen. It wasn’t complex and the ingredients were easily on hand, given the buns were mainly made with honey, sweet spices and hazelnut meal.

Beekeeping was something their civilization had practiced since before the Sundering, with the most indulgent blends kept only for nobility, techniques and recipes jealously guarded. The practice became far more wide-spread after the shift their society took. It was rare for honey to be scarce now.

The bees were kept fed and safe, they pollinated when needed and provided their surplus of honey in return. Little need to rely on the rest of the ‘Alliance’ for imports of it when they already had a source of their own.

Unsurprisingly, it was older kaldorei Maiev noticed buying the buns once she and Arllen started to make them. A few would comment that the smell and taste ‘reminded them of home,’ and Maiev would respond that Hajiri was beautiful in its time. _That_ got them talking more often than not, recalling better memories of the lost city and how they used to visit a little bakery ‘just like this.’

They asked if Maiev worked there as well, not recognizing her for who she was, and she surprised herself by speaking of Isarin with ease. The sting of loss was there for sure, but it was overtaken by the warm sense of pride for her Watchers she had always harboured and it showed in her voice.

It was a small thing, but it came from Isarin and Maiev took solace in sharing it.

Positives aside, she continued to avoid the temple, feeling further hostility was both unnecessary and not in her best interest. Part of her was still angry at Tyrande and she doubted the anger would ever leave her completely, but she was growing tired of it being dominant in her heart. Rage may have kept her alive in that pit long enough to avenge her fallen sisters, but it was an exhausting thing to entertain beyond its purpose. Keeping it would only erode everything inside her until there was nothing left but seething fury. What could she build from that? Not a future, certainly.

At one point she may have been at peace with that and resigned herself to an existence that held no promise.

How quickly things changed…

 

The first snow of winter greeted them when Naisha opened the door, intent on starting a small fire. Their breath whorled white into the air and moonlight shined on the snow in the speckles and tears of a canopy that refused to shed its leaves.

          Not all on Teldrassil were so defiant, but the branches and shoots from the great tree itself were.

          Wrapped in warmer clothing, they settled around the fire after brushing snow from the worn log they used as a bench. The remainder of last dawn’s stew warmed while they drank fresh tea and commented on the snow.

          It had been years since Maiev saw any.

          Weather hadn’t usually been a concern in the Barrow. They kept an eye on the surrounding land outside the entrances, just to make sure there was no danger of flooding or mudslides after particularly harsh storms, but those were never much of a threat. Any signs of weakness in the soil were reinforced by Califax, Saldryn and the other dryads. They would use the roots of trees to help hold the land together and after a few instances of such it was rarely an issue through the centuries.

          During winter the Watchers were mixed on how eager they were for guard duty on the surface. Some enjoyed seeing the snow and stole moments less serious when they could, leaving piles of snowballs for the next set of Watchers to come up.

          Salia and Iradri were the most likely to start a fight and it could never quite be decided who was better. There would usually be about twenty minutes of off-time set aside every week in winter for them to ‘settle it,’ but all they ever ended up doing was getting near even hits.

Other Watchers held little fondness for the chill and valued warmth over the spectacle of their sacred mountain in winter. Hyjal near _shined_ with Elune’s brilliance scattering across the snow.

“It still looks like a piece of a star jutting from the world,” Naisha said with a smile, “when the sky is clear and She is full.”

“I can imagine,” Maiev murmured, sipping her tea.

She turned her head to regard Naisha and opened her mouth, a question on her tongue, but clicking on the roof of their house drew their attention.

They both looked to see an owl perching there, a ghostly, emerald looking creature with shining eyes like ethereal amethysts. There was a small leather cylinder hanging from its beak.

Maiev narrowed her eyes in confusion. “That is Tyrande’s owl.”

Naisha looked at her and the owl glided over to them, wings silent, and landed on Maiev’s side of the bench. It ruffled itself and stretched towards Maiev, offering her the cylinder.

Taking it, Maiev frowned and refrained from opening it right away. What sort of message huddled away in there? Part of her did not want to know, fearing some renewal of bitterness between them. But Tyrande was not so petty. She hoped.

With Naisha silent and tense, Maiev easily removed the cap and pulled out a neatly rolled up letter. She was quick to read it:

 

_I will not insult you by attempting to explain myself. Freeing him was a mistake I cannot undo, no matter how much I wish it. He created more problems than he fixed like a cascade._

_I should have stopped him from leaving to Outland when it was possible. My judgement lapsed and for that you and your Watchers paid more than had already been demanded of you._

_Your Watchers were fierce and unwavering. There are no words sufficient enough to cover the scale to which they were taken for granted and I would not offer only words to begin making amends._

_I fear Darnassus will need greater protection in the coming years and the Watchers deserve a chance to be remembered as more than shadows under Hyjal._

_I am not our Goddess, I cannot return what I took from you, but if you are willing then I wish to work with you to rebuild, whenever you are ready to do so._

-         _Tyrande_

 

Formulating a reaction was a challenge, her entire being feeling removed and frozen, so her eyes simply flicked across the words again as if that would make the message register.

          She _had_ read it correctly.

          Tyrande actually _admitted_ it was a mistake.

          The weight of validation crashed into her and stole her breath, leaving Maiev sitting with her head in her hands. Years of anguish made it difficult to process the idea that Tyrande would _ever_ concede that her Watchers were not the ones at fault for doing their jobs. But it was what she had in her hands, along with an offer of rebuilding.

          There was possibility for a future she could look forward to.

          Too many different emotions swelled up inside her and it was all she could do to avoid crying just to relieve it all. Even that failed when Naisha rubbed her back and gently murmured that letting it out wasn’t a weakness, even if it felt as such.

          There was too much to bottle anyway.

          While the rush drained from her, Naisha read the letter herself and kept an arm wrapped around Maiev’s shoulders.

          The crackling of their fire and the bubbling of stew kept the full silence of dusk from them, not yet inhabited by nocturnal creatures.

          Naisha took a slow, deep breath and released it quietly. “It’d seem your words got to her.”

          Maiev coughed and rubbed at her eyes. “I…” she started, her voice still thick with emotion. She cleared her throat and straightened. “This does not feel real.”

          At Naisha’s calm look she shook her head. “I know that it is, but…” words failed her and she sighed, brushing the hair away from her brow.

          The huntress nodded and looked down at the letter again. “Believe me I’m not really doing any better. This isn’t a change I thought we’d see,” she said. “She was so adamant, so convinced that she was right and that Elune was the _only_ one who could tell her what she couldn’t do.”

          Maiev nodded numbly in return, her thoughts still in disarray. Naisha peered at her and wordlessly propped her brow against Maiev’s temple. “Maybe your words sparked fear in her. That she so readily acted like _Azshara_ in that moment, with such disregard for those who served.”

          It was a thought Maiev could comprehend in her blindsided state. Tyrande had been reluctant to take the mantle of High Priestess, to be addressed with the reverence and title afforded by such a position. That the responsibility came during the War of the Ancients would surely ingrain such a fear, showing her just how terrible great power could make someone.

          Their society was in the chaos of overthrowing one powerful, once revered woman already, backed up by the horror of demon invasion and the threat of magical annihilation. Azshara, in all her arrogance, thought herself so flawless, so _right_ and above reproach that none but she could dictate this world.

          Tyrande was not Azshara, but claiming that only Elune – a _Goddess_ \- could truly order her was uncomfortably close to viewing oneself as beyond reproach. After all, what were the concerns of those beneath the Goddess and Her chosen if they did not align?

          The very thought of what came of that arrogance still caused a ripple of anger in Maiev’s heart.

          She breathed deep and attempted to brush off her wayward thoughts, slowly wringing her hands.

          They finished their tea and ate in the silence, Tyrande’s owl seeming to nap on the end of the log as if such a creature needed rest. Once everything was clean and put away they settled in the same place, watching the fire or reading the letter again, occasionally talking about it.

          The initial shock faded as the hour passed, allowing them to work through their feelings on the matter in easier words.

          Maiev traced an imaginary line across the back of Naisha’s hand, using it to focus as they sat together. “I am not about to set it in stone. Anything could change and perhaps we will never be suited for it again. But if the night comes that I am able, I would be willing to try.” She lifted her gaze to Naisha’s, maintaining a calm tone, “if you are.”

          A reassuring smile crossed Naisha’s face after but a short moment. “I’m sure we could find a way to get this done, when we’re both ready,” she said gently. “I’ve missed having a nightsaber.”

          Maiev chuckled softly and propped her brow against Naisha’s, prompting a soft laugh from the huntress that warmed her heart. It gave her no pause when Naisha’s lips touched her own, however briefly, and only served to further the growing cheer she felt.

          At last, it truly felt as if Elune shined upon her once more, illuminating the path to a future she could find joy in. All she needed to do was walk upon it and with Naisha at her side she had little fear for either of them getting lost again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading all the way to the end, I hope you enjoyed it.
> 
> Leaving a comment if you liked it (and talking about what you liked best) would be greatly appreciated and feeds my non-existent ego. But really, it helps figuring out what worked and what didn't, so it is legitimately appreciated.


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